Murphy's Law
by The Right Hand of Light
Summary: She becomes a trainer because it's better than being homeless, even though she knows nothing about Pokémon. The Meowth fights for her because it's better than starving, even though it doesn't have claws. Both of them just want a better life. Even though they'll be dragged kicking and screaming into something much bigger than they bargained for. (An OC-centric love letter to Hoenn.)
1. Chapter 1: My Sandwich Gets Stolen

A/N: Hey everyone, hope you're having a good day as you read this. Speaking of which, thank you for reading this. I've wanted to write an OC trainer story for a while and ORAS inspired me to set it in Hoenn.

The main character is NOT Brendan/May—in fact, they have pretty significant roles in this story. Aside from that, there's not much to say besides the fact that I _really_ do appreciate you reading this, and if you left feedback it would make my day. Happy reading.

* * *

If you're looking for a story about courage and dashing heroics, you should probably go find something else to read. The press did a nice job prettying the story up, but I'm no legendary hero. I was just a kid who was in the right place at the right time, and stupid enough to think I could help. In any case, this story is much, much bigger than just me. And my part isn't even the cool part, because it definitely does not contain things like shining moments of valor or selfless sacrifice. This story does contain several acts of thievery, a few of my most embarrassing failures, and a hungry Meowth. But I wasn't the hero. I was just the sidekick at best. So there are no heroics.

Now you know that I can't tell you the story you want to hear. But I still want to tell you this story. It might not be as flashy, but it's mine.

Still here? Alright.

* * *

Before it all started, I wasn't asking for fame or fortune. In fact if you'd asked me what I wanted, I probably would have said "a sandwich".

 _Wow, that's really pathetic,_ you might say. But I was hungry. I usually didn't starve, but I was hungry nearly all the time, even when I was asleep. And I liked sandwiches. They contained lots of food groups, for one. And you could eat them with your hands. No utensils required. I would have killed for a good sandwich. That's a joke, before you get all offended. I wouldn't have killed. But stealing—stealing I was okay with.

I walked as nonchalantly as I could down the street, eyes scanning the crowd. Mauville was a nice enough city, I suppose, if you had the money to spare for the shops. I didn't. I managed to scrape enough money sometimes to buy a roof over my head for a night or two by doing odd jobs, and I bought food from convenience stores sometimes, but that was it. No fancy boutiques or gadgets for me. Out of the spotlights and dazzling streets, I lived in the back alleys, like quite a few other kids I knew. Surprised? You shouldn't be. Every city has kids like us.

But back to the important thing. The _sandwich_. It was in a nice plastic bag, sticking out of the opening of a satchel belonging to a harried-looking man. He was talking quietly but rapidly on his phone, frowning at everyone who bumped into him. I sized him up. His suit was expensive and tailored to fit him, the white collar of his shirt crisp and new. He could afford to have designer socks, he wouldn't miss a sandwich.

As I passed him, I nipped the bag out of his satchel. He didn't notice. No one did. That was one of the things I liked about Mauville—people were just self-absorbed enough to ignore the problems of other people. I sauntered casually away, his food in my hand and feeling absolutely no guilt about it. I didn't run. Running was suspicious and sauntering wasn't.

I took a right into a dim alleyway, away from the bright, glamorous, main streets of Mauville, whistling cheerfully. It'd been a good day so far. I'd scraped together enough money last night to rent a motel room, which beat sleeping in a shelter or a park bench, and now I was going to have a sandwich for breakfast. Things were looking up, I reflected as I sat on a rickety old bench, unwrapping the sandwich. I was _so_ looking forward to this—

"Hey! Riley!"

"Crap," I muttered, setting the sandwich down and standing up. The boy who had called my name was leaning against the alleyway wall, scrutinizing me carefully. I knew him, of course—most of us wayward and alone kids knew him. He was short and skinny, like most of us were, but in a wiry sort of way, like a Linoone—sneaky and whiplash fast. He had ragged sandy hair that was even longer than mine and an thick brown jacket that he probably didn't need (seeing as Mauville was mostly an indoor city) but wore anyways. I knew him because he'd nicked my dinner once or twice, when I wasn't quick enough, and also because of the Beautifly perched on his shoulder—the dainty and delicate Beautifly that most of us made jokes about but were secretly scared shitless of. Beautifly only look cute and harmless until they're jamming a proboscis into your vein.

"Yo, Cam," I replied as normally as I could, keeping my eye on the Beautifly. It stared back with large, unblinking eyes.

It was hard for most of us alley kids to keep Pokémon. They were another mouth to feed, for one. And if you kept anything more dangerous than a Taillow you could get arrested or worse, fined for Owning A Potentially Aggressive Species Without a Permit. A lot of us didn't have the food or money, and therefore didn't bother. But for some reason Cam decided to. He'd found his Beautifly injured in the gardens and raised it back to health, feeding it crushed berries he nicked from the farmer's market and carrying it around in his jacket until it'd healed. And after the Beautifly's torn wing had healed, what do you know—it decided to stay with him. So maybe Cam did do something right after all, even if he was a screw-up most of the time.

"You gonna sic your Pokémon on me?" I asked. I had a pocketknife on me somewhere, but would it really be worth it to make a mortal enemy out of Cam by stabbing his Beautifly if it rushed me?

Cam shrugged, grinning lopsidedly. "Nah, Beautifly wouldn't attack a girl."

"That's a lie," I said, closing my fingers around the handle of the knife in my pocket. "Amelia told me how your Beautifly stabbed her in the shoulder."

"Did she tell you that she was nicking stuff out of my backpack?" Cam said evenly. "Anyhow—that's not really important. Are you gonna go to the League meeting?"

I paused. This was unusual. "What meeting?"

Cam shrugged, picking idly at the dusty alley wall. "Apparently the Pokémon League's holding some meet down in the gardens for us 'economically disadvantaged children'", he said, forming sarcastic quotation marks in the air with his fingers. "They're trying to get kids out of the alleys by registering them as rookie trainers. Free. No tests, no application, nothing."

I blinked. Definitely worthwhile news—the League was normally pretty darn selective about who it gave licenses to. A mass registration session was sudden. And it was something I definitely hadn't heard of before, although I did spend most of my time away from everybody else. But it sounded neat, if not slightly suspicious. A trainer's license meant a chance to get off the street, a chance at money and a job. "What's the catch?" I asked. There was no such thing as a free lunch, especially when you were a street kid in Mauville.

"None as far as I know," Cam said, shrugging and jostling the Beautifly on his shoulder. "I heard it's sponsored by some big-shot corporation that donated a boatload of money to register us." he must have caught the skeptical expression on my face because he added, "Okay, sure, that sounds sketchy, but hey—a free trainer license would be amazing. Pokémon battles are supposed to be pretty lucrative, ya know?" he patted his Beautifly fondly on its large head. Its wings fluttered, dropping small specks of dust on his clothes.

"So you're going," I stated.

"All you need is to pass a few background checks—I think they just want to make sure you haven't mugged or killed anyone or something, I'm sure you're fine," he said hastily as he caught my expression. I exhaled, feeling slightly thankful that a stolen pair of socks (or two) wasn't going to stop me from becoming a trainer. "And a Pokémon of your own," Cam continued, grinning. "I've got one of the two in the bag already!" he patted Beautifly, which was still staring at me with blank blue eyes. "I might have some sort of test, too, but it shouldn't be too hard. It's probably just to keep the freeloaders out."

That was the one nice thing about knowing Cam, even if he had weird mood swings and a bad habit of stealing other people's lunches. He knew everything about everybody, and shared his info freely enough. Feeling slightly more generous myself, I uncurled my fingers from around the knife.

"I haven't got a Pokémon," I said. While it wasn't exactly my dream to become a trainer, I wouldn't say no to anything that could earn money and let me travel.

"Steal one," replied Cam casually.

"Stealing Pokémon isn't like stealing food," I said. "You get jail time for stuff like that." The League would definitely not want to hand out a license to someone who'd nicked a starter an hour previous.

"I know. It was just a joke," he said. "Well, if you're gonna think of something, you better do it before this afternoon, 'cause that's when the meeting is."

I cursed inwardly. Of course I'd only heard about the very important meeting the morning before it was supposed to be held. But since I'd never been one for talking to the other kids around the alleys, I really had no one to blame for my lack of information other than myself. "I'm not going to be able to get a Pokémon before this afternoon."

Cam yawned and stretched. "Can't help you there."

I stared at the ground, thinking over my options. Remember when I said that I liked Mauville because I could steal food without getting caught? That was pretty much one of the only reasons I liked Mauville. I hated pretty much everything else—eating out of dumpsters, shelter-hopping, seeing rich businessmen and happy trainers pass me on the street every day. I hated the shops full of clothes I couldn't afford and ads for gadgets that I couldn't buy. I wanted out. I wanted to leave and never come back until I could sit at the Mauville food court instead of at the soup kitchen, and wander the shops instead of worrying about where I was going to sleep. I didn't like it here, and I certainly didn't want to be poor for the rest of my life. I wanted to see the world. I wanted to be something.

"Okay," I said out loud, looking up. But Cam was gone. He had already wandered off, although I hadn't expected him to stick around for long. His attention span was shorter than his Beautifly's.

I sighed and sat down on the bench again. Maybe if I looked pathetic enough, someone from the League would catch me a Pokémon or something. I picked up my sandwich and took a bite.

"Whmmpf?" I muttered through a mouthful of bread, cheese, and lettuce. Did you notice that 'meat' is absent from that list? That's because the meat in the sandwich was gone.

I swallowed. "The heck?" I demanded, standing up again. Where'd it go? There was a flicker of movement in the corner of my eye and I turned around quickly, clutching a sandwich in my hand and a pocketknife in the other. Something emerged from behind a beat-up garbage can.

It was a Meowth. Skinny, small, and keen-eyed. I'd seen quite a few Meowth around the alleyways before. They weren't native to Hoenn but it's surprising how many invasive species you get when you allow a nearly unlimited amount of international trainers in the region. But Meowth did pretty well in the cities. They were small and hard to catch, fierce and resourceful. This one obviously was resourceful enough, seeing as it had managed to get its paws on a slice of deli meat that was dangling from its mouth _hey wait a minute—_

I threw down my sandwich and lunged towards the Meowth. It hissed and ducked, paws skidding on the cement as it tried to dash off. "Oh no you don't!" I snapped, my hand shooting out to grab its tail. It screeched, dropping the meat as I picked it up by the scruff of its neck and turned it to face me, lifting it up so I could stare it in the face. "That was my breakfast, you little—"

I realized my mistake as soon its right paw lashed through the air like lightning, carving a path toward my face. I cringed and closed my eyes reflexively, waiting for the slash and sting of sharp claws.

But instead of the sharp, raking pain I'd expected, the Meowth's paws came into contact with my cheek with a soft smack. I felt the smooth pads and soft fur press into my skin, but that was it. No blood.

I opened my eyes. The Meowth stared at me. I wasn't good at reading feline expressions, but I had a nagging feeling that it looked a little embarrassed. With my free hand, I reached out grabbed one of its paws. It meowed in protest as I pressed at its toes, feeling around the tips.

No claws.

I looked back up at the Meowth. It was staring steadily at the ground, refusing to look at me. I recognized the look in its eye, though. A bit of desperation and a bit of loneliness, with a hint of resignation thrown in. I'd seen the same expression on Ameilia and Cam, and the rest of us who called the alleyways home. I'd seen the same expression on my face in the reflection of the shop windows, when I wandered past the brightly lit displays after I'd spent the last of my money on a roof over my head for the night.

I glanced down at the slice of deli meat, lying on the damp ground. It had several bites taken out of it. Oddly enough, it didn't stir my appetite as it had a few minutes ago.

I sighed and gently set the Meowth down. I didn't know how it had ended up here, in a region that wasn't its home, declawed and foraging in the streets for food. But nevertheless, I felt a tiny bit sorry for it. Not too much, but just enough that I picked up the meet and set it back in its paws. It stared at me.

"Sorry I pulled your tail. Here's your breakfast back," I said, then realized it probably couldn't understand me. "Uh. Okay."

I rose to my feet and walked back to the bench. Thankfully, the rest of my sandwich was still there. I took a bite. Too much mayonnaise.

When I looked back up again, the Meowth was still staring at me.

* * *

"Go away."

"Mworr."

"Go away!" I threw a tin can at the Meowth. It avoided it deftly, eyes fixed on me. "I don't have any more food. Really."

"Mworr," it insisted.

I groaned. It'd been two hours since I'd indulged in the last vestiges of pity left in me and given the Meowth part of my sandwich. And somehow it'd interpreted the gesture as a binding contract of companionship and was stubbornly tailing me wherever I went. It wouldn't let me touch it or get too close to it, and would dodge away every time I tried. But it followed me, staying just close enough to remind me that it was there.

"Seriously, stop it," I said, bending down and looking into the Meowth's large, slitted eyes. "I don't have any more food. I can't afford to feed you. You're gonna have to go."

The Meowth stared back at me just as intensely. "Mwoor-meow-mee- _oowwth_ ," it replied slowly and seriously. I had a vague feeling it was making fun of me.

"Look, I know I need a Pokémon," I said. "But I need something strong. Something that can fight. Not a Meowth without claws!" I threw another tin can at it. "Go!"

I finally managed to lose it after I walked into the main streets. The bustling, lighted avenues were the complete opposite of the quiet, dim alleyways it was used to. I watched it as it made to step out of the alley to follow me and paused. Its fur fluffed up slowly and it retreated back into the shadows.

"Good," I huffed, and turned to leave.

* * *

It was past noon, and I still couldn't think of a way to get a Pokémon.

"This is so stupid!" I ranted to Amelia as we sat on a park bench, staring at the steady stream of trainers strolling by. "You know what, I should have taken that Meowth. I could have ditched it right after I'd gotten my license and it's not like the League would _check,_ right?"

Amelia snorted. "Sucks to be you," she said bluntly. Amelia was one of the few kids I knew and cared to interact with, if only because interesting things always seemed to happen around her. She was around my age, with pale skin and hair, and a wide, watchful gaze that reminded me of a Hoothoot. I guess she would have been considered pretty, if not for the slightly manic glint to her eyes. "I got _my_ Pokémon."

"You're registering?" I asked, surprised. Amelia wasn't known for her great love of Pokémon, or Pokémon battles. I think Cam's Beautifly might have had something to do with it, and I said as much.

Amelia nodded, absently rubbing the spot on her shoulder where I knew lay a small scar in the shape of a perfect circle, the exact size of a Beautifly's sharp proboscis. "Anything to get out of this dump," she said. "I nicked a couple Pokéballs, went to Route 110, and threw 'em at wild Pokémon until one stuck."

"Can I see?" I asked.

She nodded, dug out a Pokéball from her pocket, and clicked the button in the center. The red-and-white sphere clicked open and with a burst of light, a small white-and-blue bird emerged. It chirped loudly, turning to Amelia and clacking its orange beak.

"A Wingull?" I said. I'd expected Amelia to go for something a bit…meaner. "Why?"

"Wingull's a bird," Amelia explained slowly, like I was being particularly stupid. "And birds eat bugs."

"So?"

"I caught this stupid bird so it could eat Cam's stupid bug."

"Oh, I see." It was fairly like Amelia, I reflected, to go out of her way for a bit of revenge. I liked that.

Wingull was pecking at the leg of my pants. I moved my leg away. "Did you name it?" I asked.

"…is that a thing you're supposed to do?" Amelia said slowly. With a flap of its wings, Wingull leapt up and landed on her head. "Hey, quit it." she said.

"Most trainers do," I said decisively, as if I was an expert on the topic.

Amelia paused, staring at the sky as she hummed in deep thought. "Wingy," she said eventually, a look of satisfaction in her eyes.

"…really?" I said.

"Wiingg!" Wingull squawked in protest, and whacked Amelia in the face with one white wing.

"Ow!" Amelia said, whacking at it halfheartedly. It flapped away and began to fly circles around her head, buffeting her with its wings.

"Stop it! Stoppit!" Amelia said loudly, flailing wildly at her Pokémon with one arm and covering her face with the other.

"Wingull wing wing!" Wingull insisted, grabbing a stand of her flyaway hair in its beak and tugging.

"Ow!"

"Hey," I said, "You wouldn't happen to have any leftover Pokéballs, would you?"

Cringing, Amelia shoved two red-and-white-spheres at me. "That's all I've got left! Ow! Quit it, you stupid bird!"

Maybe the Wingull was a better fit for Amelia than I thought. I left the two of them to squabble and made my way west, to Route 117.

* * *

The Linoone was scurrying through the tall grass, its blue eyes cool and confident, its striped pelt nearly shining with health. Its bushy tail streamed out behind it gracefully. It moved quickly and confidently, wiry strength rippling through its sleek body.

I wanted it.

"Come on, come on," I muttered. I was perched in a tree surveying the tall grass below, waiting for something to catch. After a good half an hour in which nothing more interesting than an Oddish or the occasional Marill ambled by, and I had almost considered giving up, the Linoone appeared. I considered it a sign from Arceus.

 _Just a little closer,_ I thought as the Linoone drew nearer and nearer to the base of the tree. _A little more…just a little…_ my hand clutched the Pokéball in anxiety.

The Linoone reached the roots of the tree and paused for a split second. Its small ears twitched. Some primordial instinct in it was obviously screaming _danger!_ and its muscles stiffened. It looked around, looked up, and saw me.

I threw the Pokéball down right into its face. The Linoone had just enough time to give a startled yelp before the ball opened and it was sucked into the red-and-white sphere in a whirl of red energy. The Pokéball fell to the ground. It rolled to a stop and furiously shaking in place.

"Yes!" I whooped, dropping down from the branch to the ground. "I caught a—"

The ball burst. With a crack it opened again and the Linoone reappeared in a flash of light. There was a snapping sound and the Pokéball split down the middle into two unusable pieces. I gaped. The Linoone yelped. It caught a glimpse of the other Pokéball clutched in my hand and exploded into movement, racing away through the tall grass like an arrow from a bow.

"Nonono!" Desperately, I hurled the Pokéball after it as it disappeared into the grass. Although I wasn't really expecting much, the Linoone was moving so fast that I probably missed by a mile—

There was a click as the unseen Pokéball closed on its target, a _shwoop-_ ing sound as it opened and sucked something in, and another burst of red light from the cluster of tall grass. And then a cheerful _ding!_ as the Pokéball registered a successful capture.

 _No. Fucking. Way. A_ _Linoone._

"YES!" I screeched, dashing into the tall grass and rooting around for the Pokéball. "I did it! I finally, really did it! I can get out of this shithole and become a trainer and—" my scrabbling, shaking fingers caught the edge of the ball. "Yes! Yes! This is amazing!" I barely stopped myself from shaking with excitement as I pressed the small button at the center of the red-and-white sphere and it opened in a burst of light. Finally, my life could begin—

"Mworr."

The Pokéball fell from my suddenly nerveless fingers as I stared at the Pokémon in front of me.

 _No. Fucking. Way…_

The clawless Meowth sat back on its haunches and gazed up at me with a severely annoyed, yet slightly resigned, look in its slitted eyes. Had it followed me all the way out of Mauville?

"I'm done for," I muttered, collapsing into the grass. My starter Pokémon, my partner and the core of my team, was a declawed Meowth. Forget Cam's Beautifly, I doubt it could even defeat Amelia's Wingull. "I'm so done for."

The Meowth hopped onto my chest and stared down at me. It patted me on the forehead experimentally.

 _Well,_ I thought. _It could be worse._

And then: _But it could also be a lot better._

I stared at the clouds passing by in the light blue sky and groaned loudly. The Meowth, startled, poked me in the eye.

"Ow! Damn it!"

* * *

 _Well. This is it._

I stood at the back of a line of kids, Pokéball in hand. I'd recalled the Meowth when we got to the square—I noticed that it had a habit of wandering off if I didn't keep my eye on it. I spotted Amelia in the small crowd of kids, her Wingull perched on top of her head, and I inched in the other direction. Wingull were kinda dumb-looking, but I would have traded my clawless Meowth for one in an instant.

How would battles even work, anyways, when this Meowth's most basic weapon had been taken away from it? Staring at my shoes, I ran through all the moves that Meowth and Persian were supposed to know. Scratch, Fury Swipes, Slash…almost all of them involved claws in some shape or form. I wracked my brains, searching for more, but my knowledge stopped short there. When it came down to it, I didn't know a lot about Pokémon. Sure, I knew most of the basics and a bit of information about Gym battles and the League, but that was it. Most of my knowledge came out of random books I'd dug out of recycling bins. And most of those books had been in the recycling bin for a reason, if you get my drift.

"Excuse me."

I glanced up. Sometime when I'd been thinking, the line had moved up and now it was my turn. The League official at the registration table was waiting for me. He was young—maybe only a few years older than I was. And as I noticed that I was suddenly aware of the contrasts between us both—his crisp, clean uniform against my old, worn jacket, the calm, friendly look in his eyes against my guarded, shuttered expression.

"Sorry," I said, feeling very self-conscious. I shifted restlessly, wiping the dust off my beat-up pants. "Uh, my name's Riley."

"Last name?" he said, typing on his computer.

"Mauve."

"Age?"

"Nineteen." I'd expected surprise, maybe for him to blink or raise an eyebrow. I was a bit older than most novice trainers. But he didn't react. There were a lot of older kids here today, looking to make a late start.

"Gender?"

"Female."

"Hold on a minute." I waited as he typed away at his computer, occasionally pausing to read what was on the screen. I vaguely wondered what kind of dirt on me he had stored in the system. Whatever he saw, it must have been at least somewhat acceptable because eventually he looked back up at me. "Starter Pokémon?"

I bit my lip. "Uh, Meowth."

"A Meowth?" he looked interested. "That's unorthodox."

"Tell me about it," I said. Unorthodox. Fancy words.

"I'll have to see it," he said, holding out his hand. "Just a quick scan to make sure it's alright."

Somewhat reluctantly, I set the Pokéball in his hand. He stuck it into a device connected to his computer that vaguely reminded me of the healing beds I'd seen through the windows of the Pokémon Center. He glanced at his screen.

"This seems okay. Level 9. Moves are Growl, Fake Out, and Bite." He shook his head, a somewhat puzzled expression on his face. "Scratch should be in there, but it isn't. I don't know what's up with that."

"Yeah, that's so strange," I replied.

He removed Meowth's Pokéball and gave it back to me. "Seems like a solid starter. Nickname?"

 _"_ Uhhhhh, well, um," I said. Unfortunately, despite how I'd made fun of Amelia earlier, I was only marginally better at coming up with creative names. I cast about frantically for a name that wasn't too stupid and at least slightly cool-sounding, but I drew a blank. Gah, everything was going wrong today. Cam had said something like this to me before, after he'd lost the tent he used to camp in and was nearly arrested by two policemen: " _Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong…"_

"Murphy," I said.

He stared at me. "Your Meowth is female."

I felt a flush creeping up my face. "It's a gender-neutral name," I said defensively.

He shook his head. "Can't argue with that," he said, stamping my card. "There you go! All set."

And just like that, I was a trainer.


	2. Chapter 2: A Flower Tries to Kill Me

_Murphy's Law: anything that can go wrong, will go wrong._

* * *

My trainer card came preloaded with 3000 bucks.

"Jeez," I said, staring at the balance displayed on the PC. Murphy, sitting by my feet, tugged at the hem of my pants leg as I gaped stupidly at the screen. That was a lot of money. It might not have been a lot of money to your average beginning trainer, but it was a lot to me. Where did all this money come from anyways? Whatever. Who cared, as long as it was mine.

I was going to be practical about this, I decided, shutting my mouth. Now that I was a licensed trainer, I could eat and sleep in Pokémon Centers most of the time, so I didn't have to worry about having a roof over my head like I did before. But I needed travel clothes, a bag, Pokéballs, healing supplies…

I looked back at the display. Suddenly it didn't seem as much as it had seemed before.

"Okay," I said, pulling my card out from the slot and pocketing it. "Uh, Murphy. We need to go shopping. I'll buy stuff for me, and then we'll go and buy stuff for you. Okay?"

Murphy blinked at me and yawned, tiny sharp teeth glinting in the light. I took it as a yes.

A good hour or two later, I'd ditched my worn clothes for a new, fresh set of traveling gear and my ragged shoes for a sturdy-looking pair of hiking boots. I also bought a jacket, quietly thanking Arceus that Hoenn was a warm region and I didn't need winter gear. And finally, as much as I'd wanted to limit my spending to only what was really necessary, I'd indulged myself in a really nice hat, for no other reason other than I'd always wanted a hat.

I examined myself in the changing room mirror critically. I wouldn't be winning any pageants, I concluded as I reached up to smooth down a wayward tuft of hair, but it would do.

"That should be good," I said, hefting my new backpack. It was refreshing to have a bag that wasn't full of holes. I'd let Murphy out of her Pokéball and she was lounging on the bench, staring at me. She seemed to be willing to follow me around some more, even if she didn't seem particularly attached to me yet. I turned towards her. "What do you think?"

Murphy stared at my new clothes, then turned and stared at the wall fixedly. I tried not to read too much into it.

Scowling, I recalled her into her Pokéball and paid for the clothes at the cash register. The cashier rang up my items but squinted at me somewhat suspiciously. She had a good reason to—I'd nicked a pair of socks from the store two weeks ago. I smiled at her as best as I could.

"Alright," I said, looking down at the Pokéball clutched in my hand. "Your turn."

The Pokémart was a large, glamorous building with a blue roof and flashing ticker signs that scrolled past my field of vision: THE ALL-NEW REPEAT BALL—WHY STOP AT ONE?…IMPORTED POFFINS FROM SINNOH NOW 10% OFF…BUY 10 POKÉBALLS, GET A PREMIER BALL FREE…

I released Murphy and the doors swished open as I entered the store, Murphy trailing behind me.

The tiled floors were sparkling clean; I could almost see my own reflection in them if I glanced down. The white shelves were lined with gleaming bottles of liquid, books, accessories, and strange gadgets. I picked up a shopping basket and quickly stuffed Murphy inside it when I saw her beginning to bat at a wobbly-looking display of vitamins. Walking through the aisles, I picked up a few Potions and threw them in the basket alongside Murphy. After a pause, I threw in a couple Antidotes.

In the center of the store was a bin of Pokéballs, divided into neat square compartments for different kinds. I picked out a few regular balls, setting them in my basket for Murphy to glare at suspiciously. Out of curiosity, I glanced at the other variants—Great, Repeat, Nest, Net, Dusk…whoa, those Ultra Balls cost more than my clothes had!

"You think we'll ever be rich enough to buy those in bulk?" I asked Murphy, jiggling the shopping basket. Murphy blinked at me, then reached over with one paw and knocked a row of Potions off a nearby shelf. "Hey!"

I paid for the items. While it felt nice not to have to sneak out of the store, this was counterbalanced by the feeling of my imaginary wallet slowly getting lighter.

* * *

"Bite!"

Murphy hissed and leapt towards the wild Zigzagoon, which nimbly dodged away. It slammed its striped tail into Murphy's stomach, knocking her back. Murphy yowled and staggered, stumbling to stay on her feet. I groaned.

"Never mind, come back!" I called. Murphy shot the Zigzagoon a quick glance and padded back to me. I pulled out a potion and began spraying it on the bruises that covered her body. The Zigzagoon barked at us triumphantly, then turned tail and disappeared into the tall grass.

 _Not again,_ I thought. It was the day after I had received my licence and I had taken Murphy out to Route 110 to see how well she fought. She had a few advantages over the Pokémon we found—she was fast, had a nice starting move in Fake Out, and was non-native to Hoenn—completely alien and strange to most of the wild Pokémon we came across. A lot of them didn't seem to know what to think when they first saw her. But the good things ended there. I had underestimated how badly Murphy's lack of claws would affect her. We had to rely on her fangs to score damage, which was easier said than done—Bite was a very close-range attack, and most of the wild Pokémon were able to dodge before Murphy could stick her face next to them and chomp down. So far, our first day of training had not been very fruitful.

"I think that's it for today," I said, running a hand over Murphy's head. She ignored me; while she had gotten the hang of obeying directions fairly quickly and seemed willing enough to listen to me in battle, she also didn't seem too attached to me yet. I was slightly annoyed, but I supposed that it would take time.

I recalled Murphy and turned to head back to Mauville, making my way down the dirt path. Only a few trainers lingered on the roadsides and grass. I spotted a man in a thin shirt and sunglasses jogging towards me. Pokéballs bounced at his belt and I veered off the path into the tall grass to avoid him. Murphy could only handle half of the wild Pokémon we saw. I doubted a trainer battle would go well and I didn't want to lose any money.

How, then, to solve the problem of Murphy's short range? I wasn't sure what long-range attacks that Meowth could learn. There was Pay Day, of course, but I was fairly certain that it would be a while before Murphy would learn it, and even going by the little I knew from reading (mostly old trainer books I'd dug up from the paper recycling) it didn't seem like a very strong move anyways. Of course, I could also just train her to be faster to compensate. But Murphy was fairly fast already—how much would that help? I groaned.

The electronic sliding doors that were the entrance to Mauville whooshed open as I stepped inside the city. The bright neon lights seemed obnoxious after the comparatively gentle daylight. I thought furiously as I walked, mind whirling with possibilities. I was so caught up that I slammed straight into Amelia, who had been walking towards me.

"Ow!" she yelped, stumbling back. "Watch it—oh, hey, Riley!"

"Hey," I greeted, giving her a half-hearted wave. My eyes flicked up to her Wingull, which was still perched on her head in a nest of her curly hair. It tilted its head and blinked at me, clacking its beak.

"You look tired," Amelia said, looking me over from head to toe. I slumped.

"I'm having problems with my starter," I admitted.

"That sucks," she commented. She reached up and patted the Wingull on her head proudly. "Beaky here battles like a boss. Who thought that water could be so deadly? Hey, about that—you never showed me your starter!"

I jolted out of my quiet horror over her Wingull's nickname. Beaky. Of all names to give a Pokémon, she had picked "Beaky." But back to the point—I'd forgotten all about the whole "avoid-Amelia-out-of-embarrassment" thing I had going on. I reached a hand towards Murphy's Pokéball and hesitated. Amelia noticed.

"Come on, spill!" she demanded eagerly, leaning forward. I groaned.

"Fine," I said. A burst of light, and Murphy appeared. She blinked up at Amelia, yawned, and padded up to rub against her pants.

"A Meowth?" Amelia said dubiously. Like me, she'd probably had to deal with her fair share of scavenging Meowth in the back alleys and it was clear that she was not impressed. This didn't deter Murphy, who purred and latched onto Amelia's pants leg.

"I ran out of options," I explained. "She followed me out of the alleys and got in the way when I was trying to catch a Linoone, and…" I shrugged helplessly, glancing down at Murphy. The small Meowth had gotten tired of Amelia's pants and was staring fixedly at Beaky, which was staring back with equal interest. "Oh yeah, and she doesn't have any claws," I added.

Amelia glanced at Murphy, then looked back at me. "Do you want my honest opinion?" she said.

"Not really," I said, trying not to sound too miserable and failing.

"Okay," Amelia said. She exhaled, a long deep sigh and closed her eyes briefly. "Well—"

I stumbled as a harried-looking man in a vest bumped into me. "Hey, you're in the middle of the road!" he shouted, elbowing past me and hurrying away. Then he tripped over Murphy and fell flat on his face.

"I think you can call that 'karma'," I said, scooping up Murphy in my arms. Amelia burst out laughing and we ducked into an alleyway, away from the bright street lights. The shade felt comforting.

"So," Amelia said, leaning against the wall. Beaky hopped off her shoulder and began pecking at some crumbs on the ground. "What are you going to do now?"

Murphy meowed and squirmed in my arms. I let go of her and she dropped to the ground gracefully, padding over to sniff suspiciously at Beaky.

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "To be honest, I didn't even think I was going to get this far."

"Neither did I," Amelia said.

We stared at the ground gloomily. It had taken only one afternoon for me to realize that being a trainer was a lot tougher than it looked. Not to mention that I had very little idea of what direction I wanted to go in now. What did most trainers do, anyways, beside beat each other up for money?

"There's always the Gym challenge," I said, trying to sound like I knew what I was talking about.

"Sounds like a great idea!" Cam said cheerily.

"Wait, what—Cam, when the hell did you get here?" I yelped, spinning around quickly. Beaky and Murphy glanced up at me and abandoned their cautious appraisal of each other. Amelia tensed. Cam was leaning casually against the wall, grinning lopsidedly at me and Amelia. His Beautifly was noticeably absent.

"When you two were busy moping," Cam said. At least he seemed happy enough. He had bought new clothes, like I had, and had even managed to take a shower and comb his hair. He didn't look like the Cam I knew, the Cam who I'd found sleeping in a dumpster once. He looked energetic, smart, prepared.

Amelia was staring at him, her whole body tensed up as if she was ready to bolt. "Where's your bug?" she said loudly.

"In here." Cam tapped a Pokéball hanging at his belt. "We're official trainers now, so we gotta do things the right way. Like keeping our Pokémon in Pokéballs." he glanced down at Beaky and Murphy, who had decided he wasn't a threat and had gone back to poking at the ground. "Are these two yours?"

"Yeah," I said. "These are Beaky and Murphy." Murphy looked up at the sound of her name, then back down again. Beaky ignored me entirely.

"I'm assuming," Cam said delicately, "that the Meowth is named Murphy, and the Wingull is named Beaky—otherwise, Riley, you would have a terrible knack for naming things. But then again—"

"Cut the crap!" Amelia suddenly snapped. She was glaring at him so intensely I was reminded of a Zigzagoon with its spiky fur puffed out and bristling. "What do you want?"

Cam shrugged, raising his hands defensively. "I heard you guys talking about the Gym challenge. There's a Gym in this city, you know. It'd be a good place to start."

"I know," I said. Mauville Gym, although all of us knew about it, was mostly off-limits for us. The pickpockets—and I mean the real pickpockets, the ones who stole money and Pokémon instead of sandwiches and socks—avoided it like the plague. Wattson seemed like a cheerful enough guy in the poster ads, but he had a very low tolerance for anybody who tried to mess with his trainers or his Gym.

"If it's such a great idea, you go first," I said.

"Nah, I'm not that dumb," Cam said levelly. "Beautifly are part flying-type. I'd get torn to pieces. In fact, so would…Beaky, here," he added, glancing at at the small Wingull. Amelia glared daggers at him. "So I'll come back later. I'm going south, maybe to Dewford—I heard the Gym there's full of fighting-types. If I decide to challenge it, it oughta be easier for us to pick up a win."

"Whoa, what a coincidence! I'm going north," Amelia said loudly. "We probably won't see each other very much. What a shame."

"Uh," I said, anxiety bubbling in my stomach. In all honesty, I hadn't really thought about where I was going to go. Cam was pretty good at planning ahead, but how did _Amelia_ work out her next destination before I had? "Good for you."

There must have been something in my voice that clued them in, because Amelia and Cam stopped from their silent staring contest to glance at me.

"What about you?" Amelia said.

"Yeah, tell us your plan," Cam said. I groaned inwardly. Figures. The one time that both of them agreed on something, it happened to be the one thing that I didn't want to talk about.

"Oh, my plan," I said. The last thing I wanted to do was to look like an idiot in front of Cam. "Uh, yeah, I was going to take the Gym challenge. I decided yesterday."

"Oh, really?" Cam said, sounding mildly interested.

"Yeah, really?" Amelia said dubiously.

"Yes, really!" I snapped. "And I figured, uh, the best place to start would be—" Where was the closest gym? Rustboro? Lavaridge? A flash of inspiration struck me. "—Mauville!" I said triumphantly. "Yeah, I—I figured I might as well start here, since it's closest. And Murphy isn't weak against electric-types, so it should be okay. Yeah!" I stared at the two of them, trying to look as resolute as I could. Amelia, who'd been around to hear me gripe about my absolute cluenessness earlier, was looking highly doubtful of my impromptu plan. But it seemed to have fooled Cam, at least.

"Sounds alright!" he said cheerily. "Well, this has been _really_ interesting. I guess I'll see you guys on the road sometime. We'll battle."

"Great," I said awkwardly.

"Whatever," Amelia said. She sounded like she would have been perfectly happy if she never saw him again. Cam glanced at her with a strange expression on his face, then turned back to me and grinned. He waved flippantly and strolled past us, out of the alleys and into the bustling street.

"See you on the road," he called over his shoulder. Amelia flipped him off when he wasn't looking, then turned to me. "He gives me the creeps," she hissed. "Him and his fucking Beautifly." Beaky waddled up to her and squawked. She picked it up and patted it on the head absently. "So, Mauville Gym, huh?"

Murphy sneezed. I glanced down, suddenly remembering our catastrophic attempts at battling wild Pokémon. A thrill of regret shot through me. Who was I kidding? A battle against an experienced trainer would be even worse.

 _I'm fucked,_ I thought. But what I said out loud was: "Yeah. Seemed as good as any."

Amelia looked at me carefully. "Uh," she said. "Can your Meowth even battle without claws?"

"Sort of," I said as convincingly as I could.

"You're fucked," Amelia concluded.

"Yeah."

* * *

"Electric types," I said to myself, quickly flipping through the pages of the battle guidebook in my hands. As it turned out, the Pokémon Center had a whole shelf full of handbooks and guides for beginning trainers, which were much better quality than the books I'd dug out of the recycling bins. "There aren't many ground-types around here," I continued, glancing down at the open atlas on the desk next to me. "I mean, there's the desert, but I think we should stay away from that…"

'We' referred to Murphy and I. A good few days had passed since Cam, Amelia, and I had gone our separate ways. Progress had been slow but sure. Murphy was getting quicker at landing Bites and was much, much better at responding to some of my more complicated commands. I still hadn't battled any trainers out of sheer nerves, but we were winning over most of the wild Pokémon at least. I glanced at Murphy, to where she was dozing on a stack full of books. Her whiskers twitched as she gazed at me through slitted eyes.

I'd taken to talking out loud to her a lot. I didn't know how much she understood—it had taken her a while to understand the more complex orders I gave her, but she now seemed to be able to obey them fairly accurately. On one hand, I doubted she really understood each word of my rambling. On the other hand, I felt sorry for keeping her cooped up in her Pokéball all the time and it beat talking to thin air.

"Something that resists electric then…let's see, rock, dragon, steel...maybe a grass-type?" I suggested. Murphy ignored me entirely. "Yeah!" I snapped the book shut. "Sure, that sounds good. Why not? We'll add a grass-type to our team. There've got to be plenty around here." I beamed, a little proud of my plan given that it'd taken me about ten seconds to come up with it. The only question now was what kind of grass-type I was going to catch. While combing through the shelf, I'd caught a glimpse of a book detailing the available species near Mauville, but it'd been an hour or so since I began reading and I thought that if I had to spend more time staring at a page I would scream.

We'd just wing it, then. "Come on," I said, getting up and pushing the stool back. Murphy meowed grumpily, seeming a little grumpy that I'd interrupted her doze, but got up willingly enough and followed me out the sliding doors.

We arrived on Route 117. Even though I'd headed west in an attempt to avoid the swam of biking trainers that travelled through Route 110 every morning, Route 117 was no less crowded with trainers. In a wide swatch of green grass by the side of the road, two of them were having an intense battle surrounded by a ring of onlookers. Suddenly curious, I made my way over to the battlefield to look, Murphy trailing behind me and occasionally pausing to pull up tufts of grass and chew on them.

The first trainer, an older boy with an orange jacket, was commanding a Swellow. The large bird Pokémon's glossy feathers gleamed in the sunlight as it dove and slashed through the air fiercely. The other trainer was younger, a girl with curly dark hair and glasses, but I couldn't recognize her Pokémon. It had pink and white silky fur and large blue eyes, and all around it strange ribbon-like appendages fluttered in the wind. Despite its fancy appearance, it was growling fiercely at the other Pokémon.

"Aerial Ace!" The boy called loudly, and the Swellow turned a series of quick loops in the air that dazzled my eyes. Then it dove down towards the pink-and-white Pokémon with a sudden burst of speed.

The girl wasn't fazed. "Quick Attack to dodge," she said calmly. "Then Moonblast!"

The smaller Pokémon darted out of the way with a speed that was almost impossible for me to follow, its dainty paws moving under its body in a blur. The Swellow barely missed it. Then it spun around and unleashed a glittering silver beam of light from its mouth. It was a direct hit and the Swellow faltered in its swoop, flapping its great wings rapidly to stay aloft. The crowd hollered. I had to admit, it was a really cool sight. Both Pokémon had a sleek, alert look to them, and their trainers clearly knew what they were doing. Then my heart sank slightly.

"You think we'll be like that one day?" I asked Murphy, glancing down by my feet.

Murphy was not there.

"Uh," I said, lifting my head and looking around quickly. The crowd of trainers and Pokémon around me did a great job of obscuring my vision. "Murphy?"

There was no answering meow. Not that I was really expecting it, since she only really responded to her name one out of four tries. I felt a frenzy of panic descend upon me. Did I just lose my only Pokémon in the first week of training? I had to be the worst trainer in the history of Hoenn. In the history of the world!

"Murphy!" I called, beginning to jog through the crowd, shoving people aside. "Hey, has anyone seen a Meowth? Hey!"

"Watch it!" someone snapped at me. I jostled past them, too busy panicking to apologize. Eventually I got through the crowd and stumbled into the tall grass, still frantically calling.

"Murphy!"

Then I saw her. She was standing on four paws, her back arched and spitting angrily. At her feet was a torn-off fragment of a small leaf. And across from her was a strange but angry-looking…plant? And then it moved, bringing one of the large flowers to face Murphy, and I realized it was a Pokémon.

Its skin was bright green and had a texture that reminded me of a flower stem. Large green leaves were draped over its body, revealing two short stubby legs. Two long stems protruded from its upper half, and on the end were two beautiful flowers, one red and one blue.

Murphy hissed again, her tail fluffed up and flicking from side to side. I glanced again at the leaf at Murphy's feet. It looked like a regular leaf, but it was the exact same shape and color as one of the leaves growing out of the plant Pokémon's side.

"Did you try to _eat_ it?" I said loudly. Murphy completely ignored me; but the other Pokémon's spiky head swiveled toward me rapidly and it blinked at me with beady black eyes. I noticed that there were thin stalks growing from above its eyes, like eyelashes. It was unsettling, to say the least.

I stared at it. It stared back. There was a moment of sudden tension.

Then suddenly it exploded into motion. With a sharp, strange cry of: "Roselia!" It swept the red-colored flower towards Murphy. With a flick of its stem, a shower of tiny barbs shot out and flew towards her. Murphy leapt aside, her body arching upwards in an elegant display of agility, and then she was back on all fours and charging toward the Roselia (as I assumed it was called). She sprinted toward it and bit into its flank.

The Roselia screeched, a sound I didn't think it was capable of making. It flailed around desperately. Murphy leapt back when one of its large flowers came too close to her face. I watched, stupefied, before I realized that standing still with my mouth open was not exactly what I was supposed to do in a battle.

"Murphy!" I shouted. Murphy paused in the middle of another attack and turned towards me. "Uh, Fake Out!"

Murphy moved with impossible speed and slammed her front paws into the sides of the Roselia's head. It stumbled back, looking dizzy. "While it's stunned, get in close and use Bite!" I said, feeling slightly more confident. Murphy charged in again, jumping and chomping down on into the Roselia's head. But she released it quickly and backed away, spitting in apparent disgust and growling in pain.

The Roselia had recovered. It held its flowers in front of it and shook them. Green, glowing vines arched out from its body and wrapped around Murphy. I couldn't see what was wrong, really, but she yowled in pain and struggled to get away, flailing rapidly.

"Murphy! Bite the vines!" I called quickly, but Murphy was too frantic to listen; in retrospect, I would realize that she'd only known me for a week at this point, and her trust in me hadn't developed to the point where she would be willing to obey me in a more high-stakes situation. She hissed, her struggles getting weaker.

I panicked. Murphy wasn't responding, the Roselia somehow seemed healthier than it had before, and I couldn't see any way to get out of the situation. So I did something I'm not very proud of.

I picked up a rock and threw it at the Roselia. It missed. But the Roselia's head swiveled toward me again. I couldn't really tell what it was thinking (it was a plant after all), but for a second I thought it looked annoyed.

"Go away! You win already!" I threw another rock at it. That did the trick. It released Murphy, who slumped to the ground in exhaustion, and turned towards me. I never thought a plant could look menacing, but it pulled it off. Its flowers rotated towards me with a startling speed and it shot a swath of tiny barbs at me. I dove to the side, but I wasn't nearly as fast or graceful as Murphy had been and ended up stumbling to my knees. A cluster of barbs made it into my skin. They stung a little, but didn't really hurt. The Roselia, if anything, looked even more angry and pointed its large, colorful flower-arms directly at my face.

I panicked even more. The last thing I needed was for my face to be poked full of holes by a tiny murderous plant. I quickly tugged off my backpack and shoved it in front of me like a shield. Bam! The Roselia shot another wave of barbs and the fabric of my bag was bristling with the tiny white spikes. The zipper was open slightly and I tugged it down further, searching frantically until my hand came in contact with a smooth sphere.

I threw a Pokéball. It hit the Roselia in the face and opened in a burst of white light that sucked the plant Pokémon inside. The ball clattered to the ground, rolling and swaying in the grass, then cracked and burst open.

Wow. If I thought the Roselia had been mad before, now it looked completely pissed off. It whirled to face me, ready to turn me into a pincushion.

Out of pure instinct and also a very strong desire not to get killed, I threw another Pokéball. Another swooshing sound as the red-and-white sphere sucked it in. Another crack as the Roselia broke out, frantically scrabbling to get away.

Something in me snapped. I emptied the backpack, scattering Potions and other supplies all over the ground. There were quite a few more Pokéballs left and I started throwing them at the Roselia as quickly as I could. Swoosh. Crack. Swoosh. Crack. Swoosh.

Click. Ding.

What? I lowered my arm in a daze. The button in the center of the Pokéball emitted a red light for a brief second, then it faded.

"Oh my god," I said distantly. I was still on my hands and knees, staring dumbly at the Pokéball sitting in the grass. Murphy was slumped on the grass some feet away; she raised her head to look at me, groaned, and promptly passed out. Not that I really noticed; I was too busy staring at the Pokéball that now housed a Pokémon that almost certainly was going to try to kill me when I released it from its spherical prison. My legs still felt too shaky to stand, so I crawled over to the Pokéball and picked it up, half expecting it to burst open and the Roselia to strangle me with its vines. Nothing happened.

I picked up the Pokéball and clipped it to my belt. Almost on autopilot, I recalled Murphy, stumbled to my feet, and began to shove my items back into my bag. Then I set out back for Mauville, staying far away from the tall grass and the distant crowd of trainers, who were still watching the Pokémon battle. Two different Pokémon were brawling now, a Manectric (which I recognized from the numerous ads for the Mauville Gym floating around) and a strange, giant four-legged Pokémon with leafy wings. In the back of my mind (the part that wasn't busy screaming: _what just happened? What the fuck just happened?)_ I hoped that the crowd had been preoccupied with the battle, and not too many of them had seen me embarrass myself.

It was a relief to be back in the Mauville streets and I made a beeline for the Pokémon Center. The nurse smiled sympathetically at me when she saw my slightly dazed expression. I handed Murphy's Pokéball to her without a word.

Then I spent the next few hours throwing up into the toilet because what do you know, Roselia were poisonous, and while the poison in its barbs wasn't enough to knock me out (like it had Murphy) it was still enough to keep me locked in the bathroom while other trainers banged on the door, complaining about how long I was taking.

I had my grass-type now. A Roselia that was probably going to poison me in my sleep.

And the worst part was, now I had to come up with another name.


	3. Chapter 3: I Eat Plant Food

A/N: Hey everyone, I hope you're enjoying this story. This is my first attempt at a plot-based, multichaptered story in a while so if you have the time to leave feedback, I'd really appreciate it! Thanks and happy reading.

 _Murphy's Law: anything that can go wrong, will._

* * *

Murphy was mad at me. I wasn't some Pokémon whisperer or anything, but I could tell anyways. For one, she completely and obviously ignored me when I talked to her, whereas usually she would usually acknowledge my blabbering with an indulgent glance or a mew.

"Look, I'm sorry," I said for the fifth time. Murphy was sitting with her back towards me, her tail fluffed up and lashing about in agitation. "I'm a crappy trainer. I get it. But could you at least—"

Murphy pointedly ignored me and began to exaggeratedly lick her paw and smooth it over her ear.

"Hey, work with me here!" I said, only mildly desperate. If she ignored me altogether, how was I going to battle? It'd been more than a week and I still wasn't out of Mauville, even though I'd been so eager to leave that I would have left on the second day had I not set my sights on the Gym. I was already behind; Cam, Amelia, and almost all of the other drafted trainers had left, and a few had even beaten the Gym before they'd done so. I had no idea how they managed to do so in such a short amount of time; I was behind, and I knew it. And the only other option was to let the Roselia out of its Pokéball and deal with the fallout of its temper tantrum.

I tentatively reached a hand out to smooth down a tuft of wayward fur on Murphy's head. Her fur fluffed up and she hissed at me, backing away and churning her tail. She lashed out a paw at me.

"I'm sorry!" I protested. Even though I knew it was a bad idea, I reached out again anyways. Murphy made a complaining sound but let me pet her this time. I scratched behind her ear, in the spot I knew she liked best, and she purred reluctantly.

I couldn't deny that once or twice, I had seriously considered ditching Murphy. Raising a clawless Meowth was a lot harder than I thought it would be. I know, I know, it wouldn't have been the nicest thing to do, but Murphy's utter lack of offensive options frustrated me to the point where I lost sleep over it occasionally. But every time I thought about releasing her into the alleys and wishing her good luck, some part of me remembered the desperate expression in her eyes when we'd first met and I couldn't bring myself to do it. Besides, if I released her, there wouldn't be anything to stop the Roselia from strangling me.

"I shouldn't have let you wander off and start a fight we weren't expecting. We'll get it right next time," I promised. Murphy meowed somewhat grumpily and rolled over onto her back, exposing her soft underside and stretching. I reached down to rub her belly and she attacked my hand, latching onto my fingers with four paws and nipping at them with sharp fangs.

"Ow! Hey!"

* * *

I decided to meet our newest team member in our room at the Pokémon Center, figuring that if I was mauled I would be able just run downstairs and call a nurse. Murphy was perched on the desk next to my bag, watching the Pokéball I held in my hands with slight wariness. I was kneeling on the floor, staring at the Pokéball in my hands with even more wariness.

"Okay," I said, placing my finger over the button on the center of the Pokéball. "I'm gonna do it."

A few seconds passed. I stared at the top half of the Pokéball, observing the shiny red color with intense concentration.

"I'm gonna do it," I said again. "You know what? Really. I'll do it." On the bed, Murphy yawned.

Maybe I should have left the door open. I'd closed it because I was afraid some hotshot trainer would walk by and see me being attacked by my new Pokémon. On the other hand, if I screamed and the door was shut, would anyone be able to hear me?

"Screw it! I'm doing it!" I said, clicking the button. The red-and-white ball burst open with a beam of light and the Roselia from earlier appeared, healthy again after the nurse had healed it but looking no less terrifying (well, to me). It raised its head and its tiny black eyes seemed to widen a fraction as it took in its strange surroundings.

"Uh…" I cleared my throat. The Roselia swiveled its head towards me. "Hi," I said weakly.

The Roselia did not move. The seething rage I had seen in its eyes when I'd tried to capture it had cooled to a frosty stare. It turned towards me, crossing its giant flower-arms in front of me in a defensive posture.

"Are you hungry?" I asked. I held out a handful of slightly damp…mulch-y…pellet-things. The cashier at the Poké Mart had said they were nutrient-rich, good for grass-type Pokémon. But the Roselia ignored it and stared at me instead. I couldn't tell what it was thinking anymore, and it made me more nervous than anything. I would have almost preferred its obvious anger to whatever it was doing right now. I set the pellets down, thinking it would feel more comfortable taking food from the floor instead of from my hand, and scooted back a little.

Whatever weird nutrients were in the pellets must have triggered some primal feeding instinct inside the Roselia's head, because it inched forward cautiously, extending one stem-like arm as if it was about to poke the food I'd given it experimentally.

That, of course, was when Murphy chose to knock my bag onto the floor. The sudden noise started the Roselia and it scurried away hurriedly.

"Whoa! It's okay, relax," I said quickly. "Look, uhhh…I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot. I'm hoping we can work together?"

The Roselia glared suspiciously at me and backtracked slowly until it was hiding under the desk. Then it proceeded to sulk for the next five minutes as I watched it stare balefully at me. If looks could kill, I would have probably died a dozen times.

"...Murphy," I whispered eventually. Murphy, alerted by the sound of her name, turned towards me. "Go over and see if you can make friends."

Murphy yawned, revealing pointed white fangs.

"Come on!" I hissed. "Please?"

Murphy did not respond at first, and I wondered if she had understood. Then she stretched languidly and leaped down to the floor, padding over to sniff at the Roselia. It backed further into the corner, holding one red rose out in a defensive posture. Murphy meowed. The Roselia made an angry noise and shook its petals menacingly.

It looked like we weren't going to be getting anywhere any time soon. Murphy huffed, backed out from under the desk, and glanced at me as if to say, _whatever, what can you do._

"This is not really the best start to my career," I said out loud. Murphy purred and bumped her head up into my hand, looking for ear scratches.

* * *

"Poison Sting, Absorb, Stun Spore…"

I stood in a patch of knee-deep tall grass, frowning at the notebook I'd bought and jotted down with notes. The nurse at the Pokémon Center had been sympathetic when I'd brought Murphy and the Roselia to her for the second time in one day. While I'd been training the Roselia to respond to commands, it'd decided to start a fight with Murphy instead, and both Pokémon came away bruised and bleeding. In any case, after listening to my angry tirade, the nurse had wryly suggested that it might be easier for us to bond if I began to think of the Roselia as a _he_ instead of an _it (_ although how she discerned its…his gender, I had no idea—Roselia just looked like plants to me), and gave it…him a name.

After I spent an hour patching up the tiny holes the Roselia's barbs had pierced in the fabric of my bag, I was thinking of a lot of nasty names (none of which I can print here), and none that I could use. I eventually decided on "Thorn", after a good half an hour searching up plant-related names. Thorn because thorns were prickly…and he was a prick. Haha. Maybe instead of becoming a trainer, I should have started stand-up comedy.

Even though Thorn had none of the problems that Murphy had with her lack of claws, he was also far less obedient than she was. Originally, I tried to train him in the same area I'd caught him in, but once we'd returned near the same patch of grass, he promptly refused to obey any of my commands and had a worrying habit of wandering off. So we went south instead, towards the Cycling Road. I didn't have a bike, so we walked under the shadow of the overhead pathway for a little while, listening to the sound of cyclists chatting and battling above us.

Some distance away from us, an Electrike was sniffing at the grass, the sunlight gleaming off its green fur. Murphy looked vaguely interested, although she seemed more interested in peering over the edge of the path and into the water below, where Magikarp swam. Thorn very obviously did not want to be here. I had never seen a more unenthusiastic plant.

"Thorn!" I said loudly and firmly. Thorn twitched at the sound of his name, which I guessed counted as progress. "Poison Sting!"

Thankfully, he seemed to understand that I was ordering him to attack and raised one arm to shoot a wave of barbs at the Electrike, which yelped in surprise and darted aside. It turned towards Thorn, baring its teeth and bristling with electricity. It snarled and charged straight at us!

"Stun Spore!" Thorn twirled, sending a cloud of yellowish dust towards the attacking Pokémon. The Electrike didn't seem to be bothered; it still managed to barrel into Thorn, sending him skidding backwards into my leg. Murphy watched the spectacle disinterestedly, then turned to bat at the water with one paw.

"Come on, you can take it down," I encouraged. Thorn ignored me completely. "Get closer and use Absorb!"

With a flick, the same glowing green vines that had nearly strangled Murphy leapt out and ensnared the still slowed Electrike, which growled and tried to back away. But Thorn's vines held, and the Electrike's struggles grew weaker and weaker. It slumped to the ground.

"That's good," I said. Thorn released the Electrike cautiously. "Nice work—"

And then with an explosion of movement, the Electrike stopped playing dead and leapt up, yelping and dashing away from us and into the tall grass.

"Hey!" I shouted. But it was too late. It was gone. "Darn. Well, at least you're listening to me most of the time now, right—?"

Thorn gave me a look of pure apathy. I felt vaguely disturbed; did he really care so little about the outcomes of our battles?

Then there was a yowl and a splash as Murphy fell into the water, and I abandoned that train of thought to go fish her out.

* * *

Thorn must have been severely annoyed by our first meeting, because it'd been almost a week since I'd had him and he still refused to touch any food I'd given him.

"I'm sure photosynthesis is convenient and all," I said, crouching down to his eye level and holding out some of the mulch pellets I'd offered earlier, "but you should probably eat some of this. I bought it for you and Murphy can't eat it. And it's good for you."

The Roselia gave me an unimpressed stare, then turned away deliberately. I sighed. Why did my Pokémon had to be so..weird?

"Here. You don't have to take it from me. Just try some." I set the pellets down and rolled them towards Thorn. He backed away, his beady eyes scrunching into something very much like a frown. I marveled at how strange his face looked; the tiny black eyes, long eyelash-like tufts, a small mouth, all on the face of a walking flower bush. The fact that the texture of his skin looked a lot like a leaf didn't really help much, either.

"Come on." I prodded another pellet at Thorn. Murphy, who'd been lounging nearby watching us with lazy disinterest, suddenly sat up. Her ears perked and she padded over to stare at the little earthy balls of plant food with her tail twitching. Thorn, meanwhile, rolled a pellet back at me with the large, beautiful red rose on the end of his stem-like arm. I rolled it back. We repeated this several times, rolling it in between us, when Murphy darted out one paw and knocked it askew, sending it skidding to the side.

"Hey!" I said. Thorn turned the force of his glare on Murphy, who managed to look extremely unimpressed and nonchalant in the face of one of the most terrifying death stares I'd seen a plant give.

"Thorn, look at me." I poked forward another pellet. Thorn backed away, scowling. "Don't give me that look, it's good for you." All the handbooks I'd read said that giving Pokémon food was an easy way to gain their trust—so why did this have to be so hard? Why did he have to be so difficult?

"Just eat it—" I began, then the pellet was knocked into the air by another one of Murphy's quick jabs. "Stop! Murphy, these aren't for you."

Murphy meowed sulkily and reached out one deliberately defiant paw to bat at the rest of the mulch pellets. I slammed my hand down as a shield. "What is up with you guys? These aren't toys, they're food. Thorn, watch—" and without thinking, I picked up a small ball of mulch and popped it into my mouth.

A word of advice? If you're planning on eating what is basically very moist dirt, don't do it. It tastes disgusting.

I coughed, instantly realized my mistake, but it was too late for my taste buds. I spat the soil out, gagging and sticking my tongue out. It did nothing to alleviate the disgusting scent and I sprang up, scrabbling to reach for a napkin. The box was empty, so I braced myself on the desk and retched for a good two minutes, trying to get the taste of the mulch out of my mind. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of my Pokémon on the floor. Murphy still had one frozen paw raised to bat the rest of the pellets, staring at me with a curious expression. Thorn looked absolutely perplexed, his black eyes wide.

"Shut up," I said, then regretted it as my tongue came into contact with the roof of my mouth. "Blegh! Stop it!"

I got the distinct impression that if Thorn had been a human, he would have been raising an eyebrow and shaking his head in disbelief. Instead, he picked up a small ball of mulch (I had no idea how the large flowers of his picked anything up, but then again I wasn't going to get close enough to find out) and swallowed it, looking at me straight in the eye when he said so.

The jerk.

* * *

I bet you're thinking, _oh no, not a bonding montage_. Well, you're in luck, because there isn't really wasn't much bonding happening anyway, and not much more I could say to describe the amount of time I spent getting to know Thorn. There was a lot of sullen silence, a lot of deliberate disinterest, and a lot of accidentally botched Poison Stings that somehow ended up shooting straight towards my face. I was having a hard time getting Thorn to accept me like Murphy had. Although if I was being honest I had accepted her and not the other way around; she'd been the one who followed me until I captured her, after all.

While Murphy was much better at listening to me, it was still hit-and-miss as to whether Thorn would actually listen to what I said. Most of the time he was willing enough to obey my commands in battle. But I could yell at him to get off the bed until my face turned purple, and he would totally ignore me, like I was a really annoying Taillow that wouldn't stop screeching at him. After seeing him react to some of my more complicated battle commands, I was fairly certain that he was able to understand he majority of what I was saying, but was just totally unwilling to obey.

He didn't really get along with Murphy, either. He always seemed a little wary around her, probably because she'd gnawed off part of the leaf on his shoulder (it was growing back, but very, very slowly). And Murphy, after a few more tries to at least make peace, seemed to have given in. Now she mostly ignored him.

Despite the bumps along the way, I decided that it was time for us to move on and stop beating up on the wild Pokémon. We were going to advance to trainer battles. I departed Mauville to head south once more. We'd been doing most of our training in the tall grass under the Cycling Road, and I knew there were plenty of trainers milling around in the shade. Now it was a matter of finding someone we would have a fair fight against.

There was a dark-haired girl with an intimidating-looking Seviper, which I wrote off immediately. There were a few very young trainers walking around with Pokémon more similar to my own team. I saw a boy who couldn't have been more than ten years old with a Zigzagoon, and another equally young girl with a Plusle and Minun. They seemed like more realistic opponents, but part of me felt somewhat embarrassed to battle kids who were eight years younger than me—I would either feel bad about winning, or mortified about losing.

Eventually, I found someone who looked promising. He was still younger than me, but probably not too much; two, three years at most. Sitting at his feet was an Electrike, like the wild ones we'd battled so many times before. The trainer was typing something into a Pokénav, oblivious to the world around him and completely missing my approach.

"Uh…" I cleared my throat. "Hey! Do you want to battle?"

The boy looked up and smiled. He was friendly, at least. "Sure!" he said, tucking the Pokénav in his pocket. "It's kinda what we're supposed to do. I'm Sean, what's your name?"

"Riley," I replied. "So, uh…how are we going to do this? I've got two Pokémon, so..."

"I have three," said Sean. "But we can make it a two-on-two to be fair, I guess." he unclipped a Pokéball from his belt. "Are you a new trainer? I am. I'm from Slateport."

"That's a nice city," I replied, never mind the fact that I'd never been to Slateport. I pulled out Murphy's Pokéball and clenched my other hand into a fist. Now that it was really beginning to happen, I could feel my heart beginning to pound in my ears. Might as well get it over with. "Less talking, more battling."

Sean grinned. "Ha! I like that! You're up, Lily!" he threw the Pokéball, which opened in a burst of light. The ray of light coalesced into a Skitty, blinking in the sudden sunlight and mewing. Its pink fur was pristine and well-groomed, and its fluffy pink tail stood straight up.

"Murphy!" I pressed the button; Murphy appeared in her own burst of light, her slitted eyes widening as she saw the Skitty on the other side of the battlefield. Her tail lashed back and forth and she bared her teeth.

"Lily, Tackle!" Sean commanded. Lily the Skitty bounded forward on short but surprisingly powerful legs, headed straight towards Murphy.

"Fake Out!" I shouted quickly. Murphy moved with blinding speed, smashing her paws down on the Skitty's head. It made a surprised sound and flinched back, cringing slightly.

"Bite!" I said, trying to capitalize on the time that Skitty's flinching had bought us. Murphy leaped forward and sank her teeth into its ears. The Skitty screeched, twisting its short body, but Murphy clung on valiantly.

"Stay calm! Doubleslap!" Sean retaliated. Skitty suddenly lashed out with its tail, hitting Murphy straight in the face with strikes so rapid I could barely detect them: two, three, no, four times. Murphy let go and backed away, spitting angrily.

"Tackle!" Sean ordered again.

"Growl!"

Murphy let out a surprisingly intimidating snarl that froze Skitty in its tracks temporarily. I frowned. The encyclopedia I'd read had described it as a "cute" move…but then when was Murphy ever a normal Meowth?

Intimidating growl or not, Skitty's tackle connected and Murphy was sent stumbling back. "Bite!" I called quickly, wanting to end the battle before either she or I panicked. And Murphy obeyed beautifully, bounding forward in a flash and chomping down on the Skitty's flank with a surprising viciousness. It wailed and rolled over in submission.

"Lily, come back! I think that round goes to you," Sean said good-naturedly, clicking the button on Lily's Pokéball. There was a swoosh and the Skitty was gone. "I've got one more go, though! Sparky, you're up!"

The Electrike at his feet bounded forward, teeth bared and growling. Murphy hissed at it, her fur slowly puffing up. I felt slightly more confident. We'd battled plenty of Electrike before, and Murphy was usually fast enough to handle them.

"Thunder Wave!" Sean called. Sparky the Electrike was suddenly wreathed in small webs of electricity, the rays darting towards us. And Murphy was fast, but she couldn't outrun lightning for very long, and soon one of the waves hit her and she stumbled, her fur bristling with static.

"Use Bite," I said. Murphy began to charge forward but stopped, cringing, her limbs locking up. Damn it, it was the paralysis.

"Spark!" And Electrike was wreathed in electricity and hurtling towards Murphy, slamming her into the ground. I blinked in surprise; it was much faster than the wild ones had been. She got up again, but more slowly this time.

"A little bit longer, Murphy!" I encouraged. "Bite!" In the back of my mind, I wondered if I sounded like a broken record, ordering Bite after Bite. But it was the only attacking move that Murphy knew outside of Fake Out, which I'd figured out (after some research, but mostly trial-and-error) only could be used at the start of each battle for some reason.

"Quick Attack!" Sean said. The Electrike suddenly darted forward, moving so quickly it blurred and slamming into Murphy, who toppled over and groaned in pain.

"Murphy, that's it for now!" I recalled her. Now it was time to test out Thorn. Part of me was excited to see how he would perform against a stronger, trained opponent.

I threw the Pokéball and Thorn appeared in a burst of light. As usual, his first response was to turn towards me with a look of utter annoyance and thinly veiled loathing. I felt the strange urge to apologize to him, until I remembered that I'd done nothing wrong.

"Sparky, Charge!" Sean ordered. The Electrike suddenly began to buzz with static electricity, tiny arcs of energy radiating from its green fur.

"Stun Spore," I called. Thorn obeyed, but Electrike ducked under the slow cloud of spores easily and charged towards him with startling quickness. I had to stop it before it rammed into Thorn.

"Poison Sting!" And Thorn sent out a wave of small barbs. The Electrike veered away quickly, but a good amount of the small glowing thorns made it into its fur and it yowled in discomfort, shaking its head and pawing at its fur in discomfort.

"Keep it up!" Sean encouraged, but the Electrike didn't look very well to me. In fact, it looked slightly nauseous. I was reminded of the hours I'd spent throwing up after Thorn had pricked me with a Poison Sting attack and felt slightly encouraged. If it was poisoned, then it was just a matter of stalling now.

"Spark!" said Sean, and Electrike charged forward with the same electric tackle that had nearly taken down Murphy. But it was slower this time, and seemed to run gingerly, favoring the side of its body that had taken the brunt of the Poison Sting. I decided to stop it in its tracks.

"Thorn, Mega Drain!" I said, as the Electrike neared. Outstretched green vines arched forward from Thorn's body, tripping it and latching onto its paws to bring it to a stop. The vines glowed as Thorn began to drain the Electrike's energy, and it yowled in distress.

"Get free, Sparky! Bite the vines!" Sean ordered. The Electrike hesitated, then bit down with sharp fangs onto the vines that ensnared it. Thorn hissed in pain and let go almost immediately. The Electrike bounded away, stumbling slightly as the poison took its toll on its tired muscles.

"Poison Sting again!"

"Swift!" Sean said, and I watched, surprised, as the Electrike sent out a burst of star-shaped energy that deflected the poison barbs and slammed into Thorn, knocking him back. None of the wild Electrike we'd battled had known that move.

"Mega Drain!" Thorn summoned the green vines again. Electrike tried to dodge, but Thorn was faster. Wrapped in the glowing, draining, vines, the Electrike struggled briefly, then went limp and fainted. Thorn still clung onto it for a while, stubbornly continuing to drain its energy.

"Thorn, that's enough," I said. For a split second I thought he wasn't going to respond, then he dropped the Electrike and glared back at me balefully. Sean recalled his Pokémon with a sigh and turned towards me.

"That was fun," he said. I wondered how he could look so cheerful even though he'd lost. "It was harder than I thought it would be. I haven't been battling a lot of trainers." He rifled through his wallet and handed me a few bills. I took it, trying not to seem too eager. My first income!

"Me neither," I admitted, pocketing the money carefully. "I didn't know Electrike could learn Swift."

"They normally can't," said Sean. "I have an older brother who's a breeder—he likes tinkering around with breeding different Pokémon that wouldn't normally breed, so their offspring have weird moves. He gave Sparky to me."

"Oh." I said. I briefly wondered would it would have been like to have a sibling, or someone to help me through the start of my journey. I didn't think about it for long, though. Like Cam sometimes said, if wishes were sandwiches none of us would go hungry. And yet most of us still were. Or had been. "That's neat," I said lamely.

Sean grinned. "Thanks," he said, hoisting his bag onto his shoulder. "Well, I gotta go heal up these two now. I'm hanging around Slateport for a while longer, but I'll probably make it to Mauville next week—maybe I'll see you around?"

"Maybe," I said, personally thinking that if I had to spent another week in Mauville when I could have been anywhere else in the world, I would almost definitely go crazy.

Sean waved at me and left without further ceremony. I watched him leave, then turned to Thorn.

"That was really good," I said, and I meant it.

Thorn gave me another look of pure loathing. Apparently he didn't care for my compliments. In the distance, the sun was setting, the red and orange clouds reflecting in the still water. It was a nice view. We didn't really get to see many sunsets in Mauville. That was one of the downsides of an indoor city.

"Come on, let's go," I said, turning away from the view to head back to the glowing night lights of Mauville. I'd only taken a few steps before Thorn stuck out a vine and tripped me neatly. "Hey! What gives?"

* * *

Murphy, to absolutely no one's surprise, didn't learn Fury Swipes.


	4. Chapter 4: A Shocking Development

A/N: Hey everyone. A few big things happen in this chapter. This went in a different direction than I thought it would, so I'd really appreciate feedback. I love hearing from you guys!

 _Murphy's Law: Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong._

* * *

I was really, really afraid of the Mauville Gym.

"I am really, really afraid of the Mauville Gym," I said to Murphy. Murphy, obviously, didn't reply, but rolled over with a purr and started batting at my shoelace.

"Stop that," I said, jerking my foot away. We were sitting at a park bench in one of Mauville's rooftop gardens, enjoying the fresh air. She seemed to like the mild sunshine and nice weather. Thorn, who I'd also released to roam for a while, had gone to investigate a nearby patch of flowers. I made sure to keep a close eye on him, knowing that he wasn't yet rid of his tendency to wander off when I wasn't looking.

"I mean it," I said, moving my foot away again as Murphy stretched out her paw to snag my shoelace. "And by 'it' I mean both about Mauville and my shoe. I don't want to have to buy new shoes. And I definitely don't want to stay here anymore." What good was being a trainer if I still was stuck in the same place?

I could have just left. But something about me balked at the idea of backing down, of admitting defeat. And I really didn't want to have to come _back._

"I wish I'd never remembered about that stupid Gym," I said, chucking a rock into the nearby pond. It landed in the water with a satisfying _ker-plunk_. We'd been doing pretty well against most of the trainers near Cycling Road (besides a loss against a kid whose Slakoth evolved in the middle of our battle—not fun). I'd run into quite a few beginning trainers who'd defeated Wattson already—it couldn't go that badly, could it?

"What's the worst that could happen?" I said. "We lose the battle. But I won't lose you. Right?" I said, running my hand over Murphy's head. She purred. Thorn, over by the flower patch, paid absolutely no attention to me. I would have been offended, but by now I was getting used to his asshole-ry.

"We should do it," I said, staring out into the park. Trainers milled about in the grass and under the trees, playing with their Pokémon and challenging each other to skirmishes. They looked happy to relax in the sun, but I didn't want to sit around anymore. I was tired of sitting around. It was time to go be someone.

* * *

"Why are we doing this?" I said. We were standing in front of the Mauville Gym and I had never been so fucking terrified in my entire life. My hands were shaking, my knees were trembling, and I was pretty sure that I was as white as a sheet.

"Excuse me," said the attendant carefully. He was short and slim, with neatly combed hair and tidy clothes. I'd been standing in front of the Gym for about ten minutes now and he'd cautiously come out to check me out and make sure I wasn't loitering or planning on blowing anything up. "Are you going to come in?"

"No! Well, yes! Give me a sec." I brushed my hair out of my face, gulping nervously. The bright neon signs of the nearby shops clashed brilliantly with the metallic yellow paint and lightning bolts that graced the exterior of the Gym. Everything about it was flashy, high-end, powerful. I had never felt more out of place in my life.

I realized that I was clutching Murphy's Pokéball so tightly my fingers were starting to cramp up. I loosened them slowly and took a deep breath, licking my suddenly dry lips. "I'm going in," I said out loud, more for my own benefit than the attendant's. He raised an eyebrow.

"You got the first-Gym-jitters?" he said.

"No," I lied.

He looked a little sympathetic, which I guess was better than pity. "I was nervous before my first Gym battle, too," he said. "I was challenging Norman, and he was pretty nice about it, but somehow that made it even worse."

"Uh-huh," I said, less interested in his reminiscing than I was in not throwing up.

"If you get it over with sooner than later, it might be better," he said.

"Okay." I stared at the yellow paint, wondering when life had become so complicated.

He waited. I waited.

"Uh, I'm going in now," I said. The attendant nodded and stepped towards the double glass doors, which slid open automatically. He walked inside and glanced over his shoulder, waiting for me to follow. And I couldn't leave him hanging, could I?

I stepped inside the Mauville Gym.

* * *

The interior of the Gym was elegant in its simplicity. The floor was polished steel, scrubbed so meticulously that I could see my reflection in the shiny gray surface. Mauville's hired trainers milled in the corners and pathways, a few of them texting on their phones. Gleaming black pillars rose from the floor, and between them jumped red and blue arcs of…lightning? And at the far end of the long hallway there was what looked like a large generator, and a distant figure sat on a chair in the center of a raised platform. Wattson, then.

"Good luck," said the attendant.

"Thanks," I said. I'd need it.

I walked forward. My shoes squeaked against the hard floor. The trainers looked up, glancing at me. The texting trainers put their phones away, looking more attentive. A few of them made an effort to stand up straighter instead of slouching against the wall. Most of them were older than me. There were a couple who looked very young. I avoided their gazes awkwardly. I'd caught the Gym on a slow day, it seemed, because I was the only challenger.

I only got so far before running into one of the arcs of lightning that jumped from pillar to pillar. They crackled, filling the air with the fuzzy, bursting energy of static electricity. I carefully reached out a hand to touch one. The electricity snapped out to shock my hand, sending a tingling jolt of pain through my fingers. I yelped and leapt back.

There was a hastily stifled snicker from one of the nearby trainers. I looked up at him and glared as intimidatingly as possible. He was a young boy, probably younger than I was, with dark hair and a backwards-facing blue cap.

"What?" I said loudly.

"Nothing," he said, looking away deliberately. I stared back at the electricity that effectively walled me off from taking a straight path towards Wattson. We'd have to go around, then. I ducked around the gleaming black pillar and nearly tripped as my foot hit a switch embedded in the ground.

"Wait!" the trainer who'd laughed earlier spoke suddenly. "If you wanna press that switch, you have to beat me first."

I stared at him. "Why would I want to press it?" I said.

He stared back, his mouth hanging open for a second. "To solve the puzzle," he said, like he was explaining something very simple to someone very stupid.

"Puzzle?" I glanced back down at the switch. It was labelled with a small symbol of a lightning bolt. I pressed down cautiously with my foot and I did a double take as the arcs of electricity all around the room flickered briefly.

"Hey!" the boy said hastily. "Uh, battle? Hello?"

"Right," I said, sending out Thorn, who blinked and glared at me, clearly upset by his metallic, buzzing surroundings.

I won't bore you with the description of his Elekid, or how I had to call Murphy in because it turned out that Elekid can learn Fire Punch, or how the boy got so excited he tripped backwards and almost fell into one of the nearby electric traps. In any case, after a confusing few turns during which I figured out how to fight an Elekid (it was even faster than Murphy, which surprised both me and her), it was over pretty quickly. I nodded my thanks after he handed me a stack of bills and hit the switch with my foot. It clicked and the lightning walls that blocked off my path flickered and disappeared.

For a split second, I thought that was it and I could march right up to Wattson and demand my battle. And then there was another click and a buzz and the electric arcs appeared again, but in different places. Darn. It really was a puzzle, then.

My eyes wandered towards the closest switch, which was guarded by a shirtless blonde man with a guitar slung over his shoulder, and I sighed and approached him. His Voltorb was even trickier than the Elekid had been, but Thorn eventually figured out (without my help, even) that it was really nothing more than a big ball and started hitting it around with his vines. I got to press another switch.

There was a cheerful-looking older man with two bug Pokémon I didn't recognize at first. I later learned that they were a Volbeat and an Illumise, and both had the rather annoying ability to heal themselves. We barely managed to scrape a win, and even after he'd handed me my prize money I still felt severely annoyed at how long it had taken me. The next trainer was a girl, about my age, with a Volbeat, along with a grumpy, vaguely humanoid Pokémon that she called a Meditite. Another young man with a pair of Magnemite. And a lot more switches. I had to admit, it was pretty fun, battling trainers and navigating an electric maze. Whoever designed this Gym clearly knew what they were doing.

I sprayed Murphy and Thorn down with the last of my healing supplies after we beat the next trainer, an older-looking woman with her hair in a messy bun. She'd used a Plusle and a Minun, which were a pain; their strategy of darting around and throwing jolts of lightning everywhere made them hard to deal with. Beside my feet was a blue switch. I pressed it with my foot and the electric fields changed again, the red arcs of lightning that had previously been blocking my way disappearing with a buzz. Ahead of me was a long walkway and a short flight of steps towards a raised platform. On top of the platform was Wattson. He had his back turned to me, busy examining the generator behind him. Even though I couldn't see his face, I was so startled that I almost tripped over my own feet.

"Is that Wattson?" I asked the woman. She raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Great," I said. "Just great."

I took a deep breath. The rushing feeling of nerves, which I'd forgotten about in the adrenaline rush that came with trainer battles, was back with a vengeance. I was terrified, and I wasn't even the one doing the actual fighting. I had no idea how Murphy and Thorn must have felt.

 _This is the beginning,_ I thought determinedly, forcing myself to take one step forward, then another. _This is it. Time to do something big._

I stepped up to the platform, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. I hoped I wouldn't trip, or worse, throw up. Wattson was right in front of me. He still wasn't facing me, but from here I could see that he was wearing a yellow jumpsuit in such a bright shade that it was almost appalling. Over his shoulders was draped a brown jacket printed with storm clouds and lightning bolts. It was a rather loud outfit and the garishness of it all only put me more off guard.

I cleared my throat. "Uh," I said. But before I could say another word he spun around.

"Challenger!" he said loudly, beaming at me. "You got past my rigged doors?"

"Yes," I squeaked. I tried to think of something cool and confident to say, but my thoughts deserted me. I could feel my knees shaking slightly as I stood in front of him. What was I expected to do in this situation? Bow?

Wattson laughed so loudly a few of the Gym trainers looked over to see what was going on. "Wahahaha! That's amusing! I think I'll have to make it more complicated—too many young Trainers like you have been getting past it! Now, what's your name, and how many badges do you already have?"

His booming voice and the sudden change of topic were enough to confuse me thoroughly. I blinked stupidly for a few seconds before answering. "Uh, Riley. A-and none?" My mouth was dry; I was so nervous I could barely speak. Wattson, despite his tacky clothes, was still a Gym Leader, and still pretty intimidating.

"A newbie, huh? I had you pegged for one!" Wattson clapped his hands. Before I could decide whether or not to be offended, he walked over to the wall and pulled out a drawer. I took a few steps forward to get a better look. Pokéballs?

Wattson grabbed two of the Pokéballs and closed the drawer. "You'll be battling these two, then," he said, grinning widely. "Ready?"

 _No. "_ S-sure," I said, clutching a Pokéball in one hand nervously.

"Then I, Wattson, will electrify you!" With a sweep of his hand he released a Pokéball into the air; in a burst of light, an Electrike appeared. Its sleek green fur shone under the glow of the lamps and it growled menacingly. I threw the ball in my hand and Murphy appeared, her pupils reduced to tiny slits in the bright light.

An Electrike. We'd battled our fair share of them before and both Murphy and Thorn were used to taking them out. I took a deep breath to calm myself. This was okay. This was something I was used to. Wattson seemed to notice my obvious nervousness and waited for me to make the first move; or maybe he just wanted to see what I would start off with.

"Fake Out!" And Murphy moved with blinding speed, slamming into the Electrike, which flinched backwards. Good. There was another small window of time for us to act.

"Bite!" Murphy latched her jaws into the Electrike's shoulder. It snarled and attempted to shake her off, snapping its own pointed canines in her face.

"Charge!" Wattson commanded, and the Electrike's fur suddenly bristled, sparks flying off it in bright bursts. Murphy leaped away, spitting in discomfort. I supposed a shock to the teeth wouldn't be the most comfortable thing in the world. Charge raised an electric-type Pokémon's attack power, right?

"Growl!" Murphy snarled intimidatingly and the Electrike looked briefly shaken, but it recovered quickly. "Quick," I said, "now use Bite again!"

"Spark!" But the Electrike was faster and it slammed into Murphy with surprising force, its whole body practically glowing with electricity. Murphy yelped and stumbled back, looking worn-down—already? Gym Pokémon were certainly a lot stronger than those of regular trainers. My heart thudded in my ears and I was still trembling, but with excitement. This was challenging. This was fun!

"Bite, and go for its legs!" I said, hoping that it wouldn't be able to move as fast if we took out one of its limbs. Murphy dashed forward but ducked down at the last second to go in at a lower angle than before. Her teeth fastened on the Electrike's left foreleg and it howled, thrashing about in an attempt to shake her off. _Yes!_ I couldn't help but grin, feeling some of the anxiety fade away to be replaced by a thrill of excitement. I felt _alive._

"Volt Switch!" I blinked, caught off guard by a name I hadn't heard before. Murphy was just as shocked as I was when the Electrike was suddenly surrounded in a gleaming ball of lightning that surged forward and crashed into her. She screeched and stumbled backwards, looking unsteady on her paws. Electrike was still surrounded in the electric sphere, which arced backwards and shot back into—

—Wattson's Pokéball? Some (or likely all) of my shock must have registered on my face because Wattson laughed and felt the need to explain.

"Never seen this before? Volt Switch lets the Pokémon that uses it to return and swap places with a teammate. And I'm picking—" he clicked the button on the Pokéball in his other hand. A beam of light shot out and a furry yellow Pokémon with a lightning-shaped tail appeared.

"Pikachu!" it exclaimed in excitement, bouncing in place. Electricity arced from its red cheeks as it stared down Murphy.

"Quick Attack!" said Wattson.

"Growl!" I'd hoped to minimize the damage, but the Pikachu darted forward with blinding speed and slammed headfirst into Murphy before she could react. She groaned and toppled over, hitting the ground with a thud.

"Come back," I said halfheartedly, recalling her into the Pokéball. Now Thorn was left. I'd saved him for second because he was good at resisting electric-type moves. I hoped he'd be enough.

"Thorn! Go get 'em!" Thorn appeared and turned back at me with his usual angry stare. He whipped around and stared at his bright, metallic surroundings, annoyance written in his stance.

"Mega Drain!"

"Double Team!" And suddenly the battlefield was full of Pikachu, their outlines blurred and constantly shifting. Thorn's vines pierced through one of them and had absolutely no effect, but the Pikachu copy he'd struck vanished.

"Poison Sting! Aim for as many of them as you can!" I said, feeling like I'd finally made a breakthrough. In a startling display of skill, Thorn twirled and shot a swathe of poison barbs out of the flowers on his arms, hitting the Pika-clones with wave after wave of the tiny glowing thorns. All of them but one disappeared—the real Pikachu, which stumbled back with a wince.

"Not bad!" called Wattson. "Pikachu, Slam!" The Pikachu leapt up and plunged downwards, striking Thorn in the head with its large tail. Thorn made an angry noise and backed up.

That Pikachu was way too fast. We needed to slow it down if we had any hope of doing real damage. "Stun Spore!" I called, and Thorn quickly released a cloying cloud of yellow spores right in the Pikachu's face. _Yes!_

"Slam again!" Just when I thought we were getting somewhere, the Pikachu bounded forward and smashed its tail into Thorn's torso again, just as quickly as it'd done before. "Don't forget what you learned in Trainer School!" Wattson called. "Electric-types can't be paralyzed!"

Damn. I'd wondered why the Electrike had never seemed to be very bothered by the move. Now I knew, although I felt a little angry that every other trainer would have known thanks to 'Trainer School.' "Use Mega Drain then!" I shouted. At least Thorn would have the chance to drain back some of the HP he'd lost.

"Don't let those vines touch you!" And if I'd had doubts about the Pikachu's immunity to paralysis, they were gone now. The Pikachu danced about with startling agility, ducking and hopping while Thorn flailed his vines around. It made a chirring sound that reminded me of laughter. Thorn retracted his vines and turned away from his opponent, giving a deadly glare.

"What are you doing?" I hissed. The stress was getting to me and I could hear my voice shake and feel my hands tremble. While we were both distracted, Pikachu slammed its tail into Thorn's head, knocking him backwards.

"Poison Sting!" I said. Thorn didn't move. He stared at the Pikachu, like he'd hadn't heard me speak. "Thorn! Poison Sting!"

Wattson was no longer laughing. He had a strange expression on his face. "Shock Wave!" he ordered.

The Pikachu lit up with electricity as it cried out and sent a bolt of lightning straight at Thorn. At the last second he attempted to move but the lightning bolt swerved sharply and struck him. His plant-like body convulsed as he cried out, then slumped to the floor. He had fainted.

Thorn had fainted. Murphy had fainted. And just like that, my brief run through the Gym was over. I recalled him, feeling like I was in a daze. For a second, when I was caught up in the thrill of the battle, I had honestly thought that I'd have a chance. But…

The Pikachu was beaming proudly and dancing about, sparks flying from its cheeks. Wattson recalled it with a quiet mumble of, "good work, but don't show off," and walked towards me.

"That wasn't a bad show, for your first Gym challenge," he said. The battle seemed to have calmed him down and he looked more serious than before. "You did a good job to counter Pikachu's Double Team, for one. And you don't crack too easily under pressure." I didn't know how to respond. Part of me felt I should thank him and I opened my mouth, but he beat me to it.

"I was surprised when you didn't know what Volt Switch did. Or when you tried to paralyze Pikachu. That's something most trainers already know." A stab of irritation broke through the haze of my thoughts.

"I've never been to Trainer School," I said before I could stop myself. "I didn't have the money."

Wattson looked at me. "I'm sorry," he said, and I could tell he really was. "Maybe that explains—no, I won't insult your ability as a trainer." he seemed to be deliberating with himself, deciding whether or not to continue.

"What is it?" I said, trying not to sound too frustrated.

"Your Roselia," he said. "Thorn, you called it?"

"He doesn't usually act like that," I said. "He listens to me most of the time—"

"That's not what I'm talking about," he interrupted. "A lotta rookies have trouble getting their Pokémon to obey them. That's normal. Most Pokémon, especially the really wild or really strong ones, need to get used to being commanded. I think your Roselia is sort of used to receiving commands—he did listen for a bit, didn't it? But I can still tell he—" he paused. "—he really doesn't like battling."

I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. Wattson had watched Thorn for all of ten minutes. "How do you know?"

"You _don't_?" Wattson sounded incredulous. "Kid, your Roselia was glaring like he wanted to throttle you. He didn't want to listen to you. He definitely didn't want to be here."

"Then why did he battle for me at all?" I nearly shouted. I felt tired and angry. Thorn had ignored me in the middle of our most important battle yet, we'd lost so badly it was embarrassing, and now I was being lectured by the Gym Leader.

"You captured him, didn't you?" countered Wattson.

I deflated. I had captured Thorn, hadn't I, even after he struggled so hard. He'd tried so many times to escape after I'd caught him. I thought it was his problem. But maybe it wasn't.

Wattson sighed and rubbed at the corner of his eye with one hand. "Listen…Riley, was it? Some Pokémon love battling and being owned. Like that Pikachu you just fought. But others…don't. And some other trainers'll laugh at me for saying this, but the Pokémon who hate battling, we shouldn't force 'em."

"Okay," I said in a small voice.

Wattson regarded me carefully, then smiled a little and clapped me on the shoulder. "Come on now," he said bracingly. "Cheer up. It wasn't all that bad. Think about this battle a little, what you did wrong, what you could improve—then come back and try it again."

 _Again._ My stomach lurched. If I had to set eyes upon the inside of the Mauville Gym one more time I was going to go insane. "Okay," I said again.

"Good luck, kid. Keep up good work."

"I will," I said. I couldn't stand to be on the stage for any longer, so I whirled around after a mumbled "thanks" and bolted down the stairs and through the long room. The Gym trainers watched me. A few averted their gaze, but a couple looked sympathetic. "It was a good battle," one called as I plunged through the sliding glass doors and into the busy street.

I'd lost. I'd never failed something so important before. Most of my failures before now had been along the lines of 'too-bad-I-didn't-steal-that-guy's-lunch-it-looks-good' or 'I-shouldn't-have-dived-into-that-dumpster.' But this was something big. And I'd screwed up, although maybe my screw-up hadn't started from the moment I stepped into the Gym. Maybe it'd started earlier.

I made my way to the Pokémon center in a daze, all but shoved my Pokéballs at the nurse, who took them with a sympathetic look in her eyes, and spent a restless night curled up in my bed, thinking about the feeling of being stuck somewhere against your own will. A few hours after midnight, right before I fell asleep, I came to a decision.

I knew what I had to do.

* * *

Thorn glared at me with his beady black eyes when I released him, but it quickly faded when he noticed his surroundings; the colorful flower gardens, lush patches of grass, the bright blue sky. I hadn't taken him back to Route 117 since I'd caught him, afraid that he would try to run away. He looked calmer now that he was close to the place that he called home. Which made sense, in hindsight. As much as I'd hated Mauville, he had to have hated the bright lights and loud noises even more after he'd lived in the lush wilderness. He must have felt trapped.

I knew what that felt like.

"Thorn," I said. It took a couple tries, but eventually he turned towards me, looking extremely irritated that I'd interrupted his view of his old home. Maintaining close eye contact with him, I raised his Pokéball in my hands, my fingers shaking slightly.

Then I broke it in half. The ball split surprisingly easily into two sections, one red, the other white. A bright glow surrounded Thorn for a second, then it vanished and I was left with the image of a staring Roselia, looking at me with a blank expression.

"Go," I said, feeling a lump in my throat. "I'm sorry. Go." Thorn stared at me suspiciously, expecting some trick or trap. I understood the look in his eyes.

"I'm not kidding! Go on! Leave!" I flung the two halves of his Pokéball at my feet and made a wild gesture towards a patch of grass with my hand. The Roselia stared at the broken ball, stared at me, and turned its back on me to slowly took a few careful steps towards the tall grass.

I expected him, wanted him, to turn around. To stare at me or make some sound, to acknowledge that our time as trainer and Pokémon was over. But he didn't stop walking until the tall green grass swallowed him up and he disappeared from my sight. I picked up the two halves of a Pokéball and threw them in a trash can by the road.

I know you're hoping that Thorn would come back, that'd we'd work out all our problems and become partners eventually. You can imagine that if you'd like. You can imagine that we challenged Wattson again and beat him, that I taught him moves and tricks he'd never learn in the wild, that I evolved him into a graceful and deadly Roserade.

But that didn't happen. I never saw Thorn again.

The Roselia went back home.


	5. Chapter 5: I Witness a Crime

_Murphy's Law:_ _Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong._

* * *

Two days after our disastrous attempt to defeat Wattson, I was at the Poké Mart again, buying up as many supplies and food as my wallet could handle. I was leaving this city.

I know, I know what you're thinking: _Whoa Riley, I thought you weren't gonna leave Mauville 'till you beat the Gym, you cop-out!_ Yeah, sure, that's what I thought too. But there was no way I was going to take on Wattson again with just Murphy, and if I had to stay in Mauville for one more day I was going to suffocate.

Murphy was perched in my shopping basket, watching the other shoppers go by with a lazy look in her eyes. The shopkeeper had shot me a curious look when I released her from her Pokéball in the shop, but I was so past the point of caring what other people thought of me that I was flying far into the horizon. It wasn't like Murphy could tear up the shop, anyways. No claws.

I deflated again as I was reminded of our current state. It'd been almost a month since I'd started training and I had absolutely nothing to show for it, aside from Murphy. No badge, no team. I had a clawless Meowth with exactly one attacking move and an ever-thinner wallet. I stared dejectedly at a display of magazines and newspapers, letting my eyes roam over the headlines… _A Man in Pursuit of Power! Petalburg's New Gym Leader…Infinity Energy: the Future is Here at Devon…League in Turmoil after Discoveries of Stolen Research and Funds, Champion Stone Delivers Statement..._ A glossy magazine with a red cover caught my eye. _PRODIGAL: the New Generation of Trainers is Stronger, Younger, and Smarter,_ it boasted. I groaned. None of those adjectives described me.

Murphy gave a muffled meow. Sometime when I hadn't noticed, she'd buried herself under a pile of trail rations and was peering up at me with a content expression. She sat up, the contents of my shopping basket sliding off her fur. Without breaking eye contact with me, she reached out and knocked a nearby row of Repels onto the floor.

I groaned. Murphy ducked back into the basket. A shop attendant came over, looking extremely annoyed, but saw my expression and didn't say anything. Maybe he felt sorry for me, or maybe he realized that I was about to snap and was afraid that I'd attack him with my fingernails. Either way he shook his head and began to clean up. I took a deep breath and kneeled down to help him. Screaming and getting kicked out of a shop wouldn't help anybody.

I left the shop feeling more than a little embarrassed.

* * *

There were a few people in Mauville I really didn't want to run into. Mostly it was just a couple of the other street kids. Kyle was a vindictive, scrawny kid who didn't pose too much of a threat by himself, but he was never without his constant companion and muscle, a huge, hulking boy named Ollie. Ollie was as slow-witted as he was huge, but that didn't really matter when he had Kyle to make up for his lack of brains and enough sheer strength to beat the living daylights out of anyone. But there were worse people to piss off. Maddie was a tiny girl who also happened to be the most feared resident of all the Mauville alleyways. She had a vacant stare that easily turned vicious at the slightest threat and she could lunge as quickly as a Seviper. She wasn't afraid of anything or anyone, and when she strolled through the dim and dusty alleys even Ollie got out of her way pretty quick.

That being said, I would have taken on Kyle, Ollie, and Maddie all at the same time rather than run into Wattson again.

"Oh? It's you!" said Wattson, his round face beaming with recognition. I had strolled past the Pokémon Center hoping to heal up Murphy one last time before I set out and run straight into the Gym Leader. I glanced around quickly, briefly wondering if bolting straight out the door was a good option. Probably not.

"Uh, hi again," I said, shoving Murphy's Pokéball at the nurse on duty. "I, uh, how's it going?"

"Just fine." Wattson folded his arms across his chest and grinned a toothy grin. "A couple strong challengers dropped by the Gym this morning. One of 'em was using Pokémon I'd never seen before! It's good to see trainers all over the world coming to Hoenn."

"Uh, s-sure," I said, wondering how long it would take the nurse to check on Murphy and wishing I could remove myself from the situation.

"Say, are you coming by the Gym again?" Wattson said, his expression turning a little more serious. "I was harsh on you, kid, but you shouldn't give up."

I hoped I wasn't blushing. My face felt like it was on fire. "No, I-I'm gonna come back later." Much later. When I wasn't sick of the sight of Mauville anymore. But that wouldn't have been a smart thing to say to a Gym Leader. Gym Leaders had a big part in running their cities and Wattson was supposed to be pretty proud of Mauville from what I'd heard. "Uh. Murphy is my only Pokémon now, so there's no point in a rematch anyways."

"Your Meowth?" he asked. I nodded dumbly. "Well, what happened to the Roselia you had? Thorn, was it?"

Wow. Wattson was old, but no one could say that he had a bad memory. I swallowed, my mouth dry. "I. Erm. I released him."

His smile was gone completely now. He stared at me with a contemplating expression. "What did you go and do that for?" he said eventually.

The nurse was taking _forever;_ Murphy's Pokéball still hadn't been returned to me, or else I would have made a run for it. "I-I thought about what you said. About Pokémon that didn't want to battle. Like Thorn." I gripped the edge of the counter tightly and looked at the floor, hoping to calm myself down. It didn't really work. "I felt bad about keeping him here. I d-didn't want him to feel stuck, or to be something he didn't want to be. So I took him back to his home." my voice trailed off and I stared at my shoes, wondering what I would see in Wattson's expression when I looked up. Would he think I was weak? That I gave in too easily? I couldn't imagine it was something trainers did often.

Wattson was silent for a long while. I still didn't want to look at him. The sounds of the Pokémon Center around us seemed impossibly loud, magnified by our silence. I bit my lip.

Wattson made a little huffing sound. Then to my complete amazement, he started to laugh. His laugh was booming and belly-shaking, and much, much louder than it'd seemed in the wide, large room in the Gym. A few trainers stopped what they were doing to openly stare at us. I felt like crawling under a table, I wished the floor would open up and swallow me.

"Riley!" Wattson clapped me on the back, so hard that I glanced up at him in surprise. The grin was back on his face, and I realized that this was the first time he'd called me by name. "Good on you! Good on you, kid!"

"What?" I managed to choke out. The nurse called my name and placed Murphy's Pokéball next to me, but I was too shocked to notice. Wattson picked it up and shoved it into my hands.

"Come with me! I've got something to give you!"

With that, he dragged me by the arm out of the Pokémon Center, into the street, and back towards…

"Why are we going to the Gym?" I squawked. There was no way I could battle him again. Without Thorn, I had nothing that resisted electric, and as bold as Murphy was, her only damage-dealing move was Bite. Not the best Pokémon to solo a Gym with.

"You'll see!" Wattson was striding with the quick pace of a man with a purpose. I vaguely wondered if he'd decided that I was a complete joke, and was taking me to get my license revoked. What would they do with Murphy?

The Gym doors slid open with a swoosh as we entered the fancy room again. I groaned. The attendant looked at me and frowned. But Wattson didn't take us through the lightning maze like I'd gone through the last time. He led us through a door off the side of the main hall and into a small room.

"Here we are!" Wattson flicked on the light switch. I squinted in the sudden brightness. We were in a small storeroom. Boxes were stacked haphazardly from floor to ceiling. The shelves were crammed with an assortment of old clutter. I watched as Wattson waded into the middle of this mess and began opening boxes.

"This one? No, not here…maybe this one?" he muttered under his breath, tossing the contents of the boxes aside. I watched him stupidly, with absolutely no idea of what he was planning on doing.

"Aha!" Wattson pulled something out of the box and held it up triumphantly. It was a small metal disc. Its surface had been painted a rusty yellow.

"For your Murphy!" Wattson handed me the disc. I glanced at the lettering on the ridges: _TM34_ , it read.

"Uh, what's this?" I said. Pump-up music?

"This," Wattson said, puffing his chest out, "is a TM, a Technical Machine! It's a device that contains the very essence of a Pokémon move. This one contains one of my favorites—Shock Wave."

"Shock Wave?" I repeated dumbly.

He nodded vigorously. "I used to give these out to really worthy challengers, before I started using Volt Switch. Shock Wave is an electric-type move. It always hits its target!"

"Great," I said, trying to figure out where he was going with all of this. Then it hit me. "Wait, are you _giving_ this to me?"

"What else would I bring it out for?" Wattson replied. "Now, this is one of the old models of TMs, so you can only use it once. If you're having trouble using it, ask the attendant—or wait, I've got an instruction booklet here—" he began rifling through the boxes again.

"Wait! Wait!" my head was spinning. "Why are you doing this?" _No such thing as a free lunch. Remember that, Riley._

Wattson paused and gave me another long stare. "That was a good thing you did back there, Riley," he said. "Like I said earlier, not many trainers will appreciate it. Most will think releasing a Pokémon that doesn't want to fight is the same as giving up. But it was the decent thing to do. Think of this—" he tapped the TM. "—as encouragement. We need more trainers who think like you."

I stared at the yellow disc. I had never received anything like it before. I knew that Wattson was a Gym Leader, that he probably had entire shelves full of TMs like the one he'd given me. But to me, it meant...I felt a lump in my throat.

"You're awfully quiet."

"I don't know what to say," I said.

"A thank-you would do," said Wattson, sounding distinctly amused.

"Thanks," I said, taking a deep breath. I clutched the TM tightly, feeling the ridges dig into my skin. "Wh-what should I even do with this?"

"Well," Wattson said, opening the door and winking at me as we headed back into the neon glare of the GYm. "I've heard Meowth can learn a great number of TMs."

* * *

I left Mauville with a bag full of supplies, a declawed Meowth, and a great deal of nervous energy. I was leaving. I was finally leaving. I stood on a hill and turned back, watching the glowing lights of Mauville in the distance as it sunk in. I'd done it. I'd really done it. I'd gotten out of the alleys.

"Good riddance," I shouted into the wind, feeling a surge of emotion in my chest. I was leaving and I was never coming back. Well, at least until I had to fight Wattson again. But I didn't even have to do that if I didn't want to. From now, I could pick where I made my home, temporary or permanent.

Sometimes, all it took was one moment, and this was it. I was free.

Murphy was obviously enjoying the change of scenery. She bounced around with widened eyes, batting at tufts of grass, chasing wild Taillow (a few of which attacked her), and digging at the ground. I saw her stand on two legs to hold something orange in her forepaws carefully. Could Meowth do that? I'd never seen her do it before. Maybe we could use it in battle? I watched as she sent a jolt of electricity at an overly curious Taillow (I'd managed to teach her Shock Wave after an hour of consulting the instruction pamphlet, though she wasn't experienced enough to do nothing more than give off the occasional spark). She quickly retreated back towards me, running on two legs, still holding the object she'd found in her forepaws.

"Mwoor," she said, pushing it into my hands. I took it and looked at it. It was a Super Potion. The container of liquid medicine was still half-full. A few experimental sprays proved that the nozzle still worked. Some trainer with enough money and supplies had probably thrown it away after using only half of it. I didn't have enough of either of the two, so I put the Potion in my bag and thanked Murphy with an ear-scratch.

There were a few trainers milling around. Murphy took down a pink-haired girl's Spoink and Zigzagoon with a few well-timed Bites, and dispatched another boy's Goldeen with a few shaky Shock Waves. It seemed to take her a great amount of concentration to aim it, and she quickly lost control of the arcs of lightning if she grew distracted. I saw a sign next to a cozy-looking house promising challenging battles and almost decided to enter, but a trainer I didn't even know pulled me away firmly.

"Don't bother," he said resignedly. "No one beats the _Winstrates_."

He said the word 'Winstrate' in the same frustrated way that I would have said 'Cam's Beautifly' or 'Maddie', so I took this to mean that the Winstrate family was very terrifying indeed.

There was a large lake near the Winstrate house; I stopped to take a look, remembering how Murphy had a fondness for playing with water. As long as I watched her carefully, she didn't fall in very often. While I walked, she darted in and out between my legs, prancing about playfully. I smiled. This was a side I hadn't seen so far. It seemed that even she was eager to get out of Mauville.

There was a fisherman wearing a red hat by the lakeshore. His fishing pole was propped up on a rickety metal stand, the lure bobbing in the water. Next to him was his bag and an empty bucket. I peered at him from behind a tree as Murphy batted at the water experimentally. Funny, he didn't seem to be very interested in actually fishing.

The fisherman glanced about. He couldn't see me with the fish blocking his view, so maybe that's why he started doing what he did next. He opened his bag and started pulling out Pokéballs, one after another. I snorted, wondering what he was planning on catching that required so many Pokéballs to snag. But he didn't reel in his line, even though the lure had briefly sunk underwater, pulled by some hungry Pokémon. Instead, he began opening the Pokéballs one by one. I watched, growing more and more interested (this was certainly more entertaining than watching Murphy play with the water) as he began to set Pokémon from the Pokéballs free into the lake, then broke the red-and-white spheres in half. Why was he releasing so many Pokémon?

"Why are you releasing so many Pokémon?" Curiosity won out, and I decided to screw subtlety and head on over. The fisherman yelped as I walked up to him; clearly, he hadn't noticed that I was there. Strangely enough, he didn't just look surprised; he looked scared.

"I-I didn't know there was anyone watching!" he hissed. "Did you see—you didn't see—oh Arceus, are you going to report me?"

I frowned. This wasn't going where I thought it would. But I had a hunch of what was going on. This guy was scared because I caught him in the middle of doing something that I could report him for. He looked nervous. He looked worried.

Maybe I could get something from the situation.

"I don't know," I said, adopting a thoughtful expression. I had no idea what he had been doing, or why it was illegal, but it was in my best interest to act like I did. "I guess I'm supposed to report something like this. It's the law, right?" I bluffed, glancing into the lake. The Pokémon that had been released were splashing and swimming about in the water, but I didn't recognize any of them. I saw a blue, reptilian Pokémon with large fangs, another orange Pokémon with two tails and a squishy yellow ring around its neck, and a colorful assortment of fish-like Pokémon. They looked healthy and exotic; I didn't have a clue as to why he'd been so eager to get rid of them.

"Look, no one has to report anything." The fisherman was panicking now, holding his hands up placatingly. "Kid. Look. I'm just a local breeder, okay? I'm not hurting anyone, buddy, I just needed a place to dump a couple rejects. It's just this one lake, I swear—"

A breeder. There were plenty of breeders in Mauville, selling foreign and selectively bred Pokémon to the rich clients and strong trainers that came to the city. 'Rejects'...he'd been getting rid of his surplus stock. I took another look at the Pokémon in the lake. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with them, besides the fact that they weren't commonly found in the area.

Murphy padded up to me, her fur wet and meowing grumpily. Then again, Meowth weren't supposed to be found in Mauville either, I reflected. Then I understood.

"Dumping non-native species into the wild?" I said. "There's gotta be a fine for that."

The fisherman jumped like I'd stuck him with a pin. Bulls-eye. Bingo. Ten points to Riley. "There isn't—I-I can't—kid, calm down," he said hastily. "Look, have a little sympathy, okay? I really can't afford a fine. It's j-just this one lake I use. One lake doesn't screw up a whole ecosystem. I get rid of the extra Pokémon, trainers stop by and catch them, everyone wins. Would reporting this—tell you what, here—" and before I could figure out what he was doing, he reached into his bag and brought out the last Pokéball.

"Look, I'll make it worth your while. Take this. Take this and don't say anything." he shoved it into my hand.

I blinked, staring down at it. "What's in this?"

"It's called a Skrelp." the fisherman was backing up cautiously, packing up his supplies like he expected me to cuff him then and there. "They're not native to Hoenn, they're from a region called Kalos—agh, go look them up, okay?"

"Uh, I don't—"

"Look them up," the fisherman repeated, slinging his bag over his shoulder and scrambling away. "It'll be worth your time, I promise—you didn't see me here, okay? You didn't!" and with that he bolted. I watched him go. Murphy meowed inquisitively and turned towards me.

"I have no idea," I said, weighing the Pokéball in my hand. "But I think we just got a new teammate." Nice. And I hadn't even had to throw any Pokéballs. Money saved is money earned.

I looked over into the lake, hoping I could catch some more of the breeding rejects. But there was nothing there. The Pokémon had scattered, ready to make their homes in this strange new world.

* * *

The Skrelp was the ugliest thing I'd ever seen. It didn't look like a Pokémon. It looked like a weed. It looked like a stick. A stick with huge blood-red eyes and a skinny, arched body. I could see the curve of its spine through its skin, which was slightly slimy to the touch—I should know, because it latched itself onto me as soon as I released it from its Pokéball, and refused to let go.

"Aghhhhghhgahhghh," I said, flailing my arm around frantically. The Skrelp had wound itself around my forearm and was making a weird burbling noise. Bubbles dripped from its tiny snout. It smelled like rotting leaves and I gagged. "Getoffgetoffgetoff."

The Skrelp made a noise that sounded vaguely like a "mrlup" and began rubbing its head up and down my skin. It did not let go.

"Murphy!" I said desperately, trying to pry our new teammate off. It was like trying to grab a greased tomato. "Murphy, help me get it off!"

Murphy stared at me with a hint of slight interest in her eyes. I was one hundred percent sure that she understood what I was saying. Her whiskers twitched and she sat down to watch, the tip of her tail flicking from side to side.

"You think this is funny, don't you? This isn't funny."

Murphy yawned.

"Haha. You're so funny. You're so smart." I tried loosening the Skrelp's grip. It coiled around me tighter. Now it had closed its eyes and was making a contented cooing sound. I sighed and sat down onto the grass, bringing it up to my eye level. It was even uglier up close. I wondered if that was why it had been a reject.

"You have to get off me. Okay?" I said seriously.

The Skrelp opened one eye and stared at me, then closed it again. Murphy made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a purr. I groaned and held my head in my hands, the Skrelp still wound tightly around my left arm.

"I can't believe it," I said. "First Thorn, now you—why do I get all the problem Pokémon? How are we going to battle like this?"

As soon as I said the word 'battle,' the Skrelp's eyes shot open. It twisted off of me and fell to the ground, standing upright on three plant-like limbs, an alert, eager expression in its bulging eyes.

"Msreeellp," it burbled, suddenly all business. It narrowed its eyes, its body swaying as it searched for a foe. I gaped. The Skrelp arched its back and suddenly spat a stream of acid that sizzled as it hit the grass and dirt. _Well,_ I thought dumbly, _at least no one can say it's unenthusiastic._

The Skrelp was still standing upright, looking intensely around for a battle. I sighed, sitting down in the grass. What an oddball of a Pokémon. Why were none of the Pokémon I owned normal? "Come on back, there's no need to freak out. We're not battling now."

A mistake. The Skrelp launched itself back towards me and wrapped around my arm again, cooing happily. Murphy actually meowed with what was obviously amusement. I glared at her. She kept eye contact with me, reached out a paw, and knocked the Skrelp's Pokéball from the grass into the water.

"I'm pretty sure you're just a huge troll," I informed her after I fished it out, the Skrelp still wound tightly around my forearm.

"Mworr," she agreed.

I glanced at the Skrelp. It stared back at me, blowing bubbles from its tiny mouth with an affectionate look in its bulbous eyes. "You can make acid, huh? What else can you do?" I jiggled my arm gently. "Do something else?"

The Skrelp eagerly arched its neck and spat a fountain of water. A few droplets landed on my ankle. It took me a few seconds to realize the water was really, really hot.

"Ohhhhhhh—owwwwww, owowow—"

* * *

It was too bad I had no idea what the super hot water attack was called.

"Use that water spout thing," I said. "The one that makes really hot water. The one you used before."

The Skrelp stared blankly at me. A short distance away, the wild Sandshrew we were battling looked vaguely bored and began to nose at the ground, looking for food.

"Boiling water. Steaming water. Burning water?" I said weakly. The Skrelp made a confused bubbling noise. "Never mind, just use Acid." It immediately perked up and shot a jet of bubbling acid at the Sandshrew, which yelped and rolled aside. It darted into the bushes to escape. The Skrelp looked disappointed. For a so-called 'reject', it was awfully well-trained and actually pretty strong.

I sighed. After an afternoon spent experimenting with the Skrelp's moves, I still hadn't figured out how to get it to produce the jet of hot water again. I'd learned that it could shoot a small stream of poison, camouflage itself to blend in with its surroundings and one time, produced a suspiciously spiky object that I was afraid to examine. But no amount of creative names could get it to produce boiling water. The Skrelp was enthusiastic, at least.

"Okay, that does it. I can't keep calling you 'The Skrelp'," I said to it. It didn't respond, instead sniffing at a patch of lichen and mouthing at with its tiny snout. "What do you feel like being called?"

The Skrelp, obviously, didn't respond. I hmmed, running my hand through my hair. It was a hot day out. "Let's see…Leaf?"

Murphy, who was lounging in the sun nearby watching our failed attempts to battle, made a distinctive coughing sound that I heard her make when she was especially unimpressed. I hoped it was a coincidence. "Maybe not. Uhh." I looked at it carefully. It was a vaguely purple color, a sickly kind of purple that I didn't think occurred naturally. Outside of toxic waste, maybe. "What's another word for purple?" Violet? No, too pretty. Mauve? No, that was _my_ name.

"This is hard," I said to myself. Murphy's eyes were half-closed and she looked close to falling asleep. The Skrelp was preoccupied with blowing bubbles again. I watched as it inhaled and dribbled a stream of bubbles onto the ground, then paused and blew a larger bubble that floated into the air before popping. I stared.

"Bubbles?" I said. The Skrelp turned to me and burbled. Murphy opened her eyes and stared at me, her tail flicking. I thought about it. It was an annoyingly cute name, the sort of name I would have expected to be given to a Marill or a Squirtle, not the big-eyed freakish thing that was my Skrelp. It was weird.

"What isn't weird about our team?" I said out loud. Murphy was declawed and I'd grown up clawing for scraps in the alleys of Mauville. Weird was fine. I liked weird. "Bubbles it is. Until I can think of something better."

* * *

A/N: Bubbles the Skrelp. Riley...is not the best at naming things.

Coming up next: Riley runs into two kids playing gangsters. What a couple of wannabes. And what kind of a name is Team Aqua, anyways?


	6. Chapter 6: How to Spot a Wannabe

_Murphy's Law: Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong._

* * *

There had been one tiny silver lining to the raging black storm cloud that was my previous life on the streets: there were only three gangs in the Mauville alleys and all they really cared about was fighting each other. If you were a street kid who minded your own business, the gangs rarely bothered you unless they got in in their heads to try and recruit you. I went out of my way to ensure this wasn't the case. The last thing I wanted was to be caught up in someone else's pissing contest, or worse, get arrested. But besides the three really serious gangs, occasionally a couple of kids would get together thinking they were gonna start a gang of their own. These were the wannabes, and they didn't usually last long. Most of them were all bark and no bite, and liked to get in your business. I got pretty good at spotting the wannabes after a while; I knew which ones were jokes and which ones I should really avoid. Anyways, the reason I'm telling you this is because my first thought when the two trainers in their bandanas and striped shirts stomped up to me was: _damn, even outside of the streets there are wannabes._

 _"_ Hey! You!" one of them shouted. She was a skinny kid with a hungry look in her eyes. The black bandana that tied back her hair stood in stark contrast to her pale, freckled skin. She stomped forward confidently towards me with a swagger to her step that she probably thought made her look cool. It just made her look like she was in danger of falling over and she almost staggered into her companion, a boy with scraggly hair and a ripped jacket. Both were wearing dark bandanas and blue-and-white striped shirts. They even had ripped pants: the surefire way to make yourself look tough.

"Oh, hi," I said, opting for the uncontroversial statement. It seemed to catch them off guard, because they paused for a second. I guess most people wouldn't greet two probably-gang-members with just a 'Hi', even if they were wannabes. I shoved my hands in my pockets and made sure to look relaxed. I wasn't going to let a couple of rookies intimidate me. "What's up?"

"That Skrelp!" the girl seemed to be quicker on the uptake than her partner. She pointed at Bubbles, who burbled happily at the two of them. "Where'd you find that Skrelp?"

"A breeder gave it to me," I said. I thought it was a pretty normal thing to say, but both of them bristled as if I'd insulted them personally. The boy took out a strange device and flipped open the case, appearing to scan Bubbles with it quickly. He swiped his finger across the screen, raising an eyebrow at whatever information he saw.

"Toxic Spikes and Scald. Skrelp don't learn those without breeding," he said. "Definitely part of the stock we were supposed to pick up." he looked up at me, eyes narrowed. "This Skrelp wasn't sold to you and you catch can't them around here. Did you steal him?"

"No!" I protested. Geez, steal a sandwich and a couple pairs of socks, and suddenly everyone's looking to pin you as a thief. "I wouldn't steal a Pokémon. You get jail time for stuff like that. The breeder just gave it to me."

"Liar," said the girl.

"No lie," I said earnestly.

"Quit screwing around!" the girl took a step closer. "You have no idea what you're messing with. That breeder shouldn't have given anything to you because he has a secret contract with us. That Skrelp was supposed to be our Pokémon, got it? So how'd you get it? Why'd he give it to you? Where's the rest of the Pokémon?"

Oh. Huh. So the breeder had been doing more than releasing rejects into the wild. He'd been part of a deal to sell specially bred Pokémon to whatever wannabe gang these two were a part of. But he'd chickened out and dumped them all. I couldn't understand why. They weren't exactly intimidating. Still, I didn't really feel like getting caught up in their business.

"I think he dumped the rest of the Pokémon in a lake. It's a bit south from here." I pointed towards the direction I had last seen the breeder. "Are we done here?"

The girl squinted at me. The boy frowned and poked at his scanner, staring at Bubbles. Eventually, she nodded grudgingly. "Fine," she said tersely. "We'll let you leave—" _Let you?_ Man, these two had pretty huge egos for a couple of grunts acting a lot tougher than they were. "—on one condition. Hand over that Skrelp to us."

I glanced down at Bubbles. It had wound itself tightly around my leg and was staring nervously at the two of them. "Uh, why?"

"This Skrelp's our team's property," said the boy. "He was specially bred for us to use. Give him here." he held out his hand, gesturing towards me.

I frowned, pretending to think for a second. Bubbles looked up at me anxiously. Even after owning him for a little while (and I decided to go along with what the boy said and assume that Bubbles was a _him,_ even though I had no idea how he knew—maybe there was some magical sixth sense that other trainers had which I lacked), I still wasn't used to how ugly he looked.

"How about…no."

The boy looked shocked. The girl looked angry and she stepped closer, cracking her knuckles. You get arthritis if you do that too often, you know. I almost said as much.

"Hand. Over. The. Skrelp."

"Nah," I said.

"You have no idea what you're messing with," she said, baring her teeth in a grimace. "You don't want…" she paused dramatically. "Team Aqua as your enemy."

There was maybe a second of silence, then I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Is that seriously what you guys are calling yourself? _Aqua?_ I thought you were going for a pirate theme or something, but Aqua sounds so…stuck-up. Like, a bunch of submarine scientists maybe. What the heck?"

The girl looked at her partner, who looked back at her, then both of them turned and stared at me. Both of them looked flabbergasted. The boy's mouth was hanging open slightly. "Do you…" he paused. "Do you know what Team Aqua is?"

"Nope," I said.

"Do you watch the news? Do you read the newspaper?"

"Not really," I said. I'd had more urgent things to do with my time than keep up with what some famous trainer halfway across the world had said.

"Are you serious?" said the girl in disbelief. "Did you live under a rock or something?"

"In an alley, actually," I said.

"I can't believe this," she said, turning towards the boy again. "Freaking—can _you_ believe this?"

"Can I go?" I said.

"No!" they said in unison. The girl scowled and plucked a Pokéball from her belt in a surprisingly fluid motion and tossed it at me. A Lotad popped out. "I'll give you one more chance. Are you gonna give us the Skrelp?" she said, managing to pull off a pretty menacing voice.

I looked at the Lotad. It looked back at me with lidded eyes, foam dribbling from its wide mouth. I couldn't tell which of us was more unenthusiastic about the idea of a battle. I decided to the control of the situation.

"Bubbles, Acid." Bubbles excitedly reared up and spat a stream of poison at the Lotad, which yelped and stumbled back on six tiny legs as it was directly hit by the attack. The wide leaf on its body was withering quickly after coming into contact with the acid. Poison beats grass, I remembered. Perfect.

"Hey!" the girl grunt looked angry. "You're not even gonna respond?" The boy looked vaguely interested and put away his scanner, observing us quietly. I was relieved he didn't send out a Pokémon—if this had been an actual fight I would have expected him to take the opportunity to gang up on me.

"Uh, I did." I said. "Bubbles, use Acid again." This time the Lotad was expecting it and managed to dodge most of the attack, although a few drops landed on its soft skin. It made a noise that sounded like a complaint.

"You can't just—ugh, never mind." she turned towards her Lotad. "Teeter Dance!"

The Lotad suddenly spun around with startling agility and began to wobble about alarmingly. I blinked. Nothing seemed to be happening, it wasn't even getting close to Bubbles. Then I looked at him and realized that he was following the Lotad's movements as if transfixed, his head bobbing in rhythm. His red eyes blinked rapidly, as if he couldn't see clearly.

"Camouflage, Bubbles!" I said. Bubbles tilted his head, swaying on the spot. He made a puzzled noise, then tripped and fell flat on his snout. "Hey! What—"

"Mega Drain!" Glowing vines emerged from under the leaf on the Lotad's back and shot out with surprising speed, tangling around Bubbles. I knew from my past experiences with Roselia that they were draining his energy. I needed to act quickly.

"Acid!" Bubbles seemed to hear my command this time; he spat a stream of acid straight into the Lotad's face. It groaned and collapsed, the glowing vines retreating into its torso. Bubbles doused it with another spray of acid. The girl grunt yelped and recalled her Pokémon.

I probably shouldn't have said anything, but I couldn't resist getting another dig in. "I'm terrified of Team Aqua now, just so you know."

"Shut up!" she said viciously. "You attacked without warning, that's cheating."

"Cool," I said. "Is it more against the rules than trying to steal someone else's Pokémon?"

"Poochyena!" the Aqua girl seemed to have given up on carrying a conversation with me. The sleek, black canid Pokémon popped out of its Pokéball. It snarled and bared its fangs at me. "Howl!" she commanded, and the Poochyena let out a intimidating cry.

"Acid!" But the Poochyena was faster than the Lotad had been, and it easily dodged the worst of the spray. It swerved to the side and bit down. Bubbles tumbled aside at the last moment and its fangs snapped on empty air.

Acid wasn't going to work as well this time; even training with Bubbles for a little while had been enough to teach me that it wasn't a very strong attack. The boy had scanned Bubbles; he'd mentioned two other moves that he could use, right? Something about poison…

"Toxic Spikes!" I said in excitement. That seemed like an appropriately cool and powerful name. Bubbles made a weird gagging sound and spat out one small, purple, spiked object. One, as in a single purple spike. He burbled proudly. The Poochyena stared at the small spike in disdain and carefully stepped around it.

"Come on!" I said, throwing my hands up in the air.

"Thunder Fang!" The grunt called. Poochyena bounded forward, its muzzle crackling with…electricity? "Get away!" I called a second too late. The Poochyena bit down, Bubbles let out an agonized cry and thrashed about. I froze. What the hell? I hadn't seen any Poochyena who could use that move before.

"Get out of there! Acid!" It took Bubbles a second to respond, but he arched his neck and doused the Poochyena's fur with caustic purple liquid. It backed away, growling in discomfort. But Bubbles was drooping slightly, making pained noise as he tried to stay upright.

"Thunder Fang, one more time!"

My head spun. Acid wasn't going to stop the Poochyena this time. Toxic Spikes was functionally useless—just because Bubbles knew that move doesn't mean that he was good at using it. Camouflage might have helped us hide until I thought of another plan, but Poochyena was too close. Should I just go with Acid again and finish it off with Murphy? What if she had another Pokémon? No, there has to be a better option. Did the boy grunt mention anything else? Wait, that's right, he'd said—

"Scald!" I shouted. And finally, Bubbles shot a forceful jet of steaming water from his mouth, hitting the Poochyena as it charged forward and stopping it in its tracks. Finally! Scald! What a stupid name for boiling water. There had to be a better name for that attack. "Keep it up until it drops!"

Bubbles bombarded the Poochyena with boiling-hot water, sending it scrabbling backwards as it flinched away from the heat. Its lush fur grew dark and sodden with the extra weight of the water and it howled in discomfort as the hot spray hit it in the face. It toppled over.

"You win already! Quit it!" The girl grunt said, her face red as she recalled her Pokémon. As soon as his opponent disappeared, Bubbles made a tired but triumphant noise and slumped a little, still injured from the Thunder Fang.

"Good job, buddy," I said, heart still pounding in my ears. Bubbles looked immensely satisfied and hobbled over to wearily wrap around my leg. I took this as a sign that he was too worn out to continue and I released Murphy, who stretched and yawned before getting into position. I looked questioningly at the grunts.

"I'm out of Pokémon. You won, stupid," the girl said. She turned away, muttering under her breath. "…didn't even know who we were, what the freaking hell…"

I turned to look at the boy. He raised his hands in a pacifying gesture. "I haven't got any Pokémon," he said. "I'm not a battler. I'm just supposed check up on the Pokémon we got. She—" he jerked a thumb at the girl, who scowled at him. "—she's the battler here."

A grunt with a Lotad and a Poochyena. Absolutely terrifying. Team Aqua looked more and more dangerous by the second. "Are you gonna give me my money?" I asked.

"Fuck off," she said.

I didn't leave. "Uh, you have to pay me. I beat you. That's how being a trainer works. It's the rules." I held out my hand. Earning money was 90% of the reason I became a trainer, there was no way I was going to let these two bail on me just because they thought they were cool enough to work for some wannabe gang.

"We're _Team Aqua,_ " the boy stressed. "We don't follow, uh, rules."

"Yeah, what are you gonna do to us?" the girl sneered. "Aqua Grunts are made of tougher stuff than you think."

I lost my patience. No way that battle was going to be a complete waste of my time. "I'll have Bubbles burn your skin off with acid and boiling water. Or I'll get Murphy to claw your eyes out. Whatever, you can pick." No need to mention that Murphy didn't have claws. What they didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

"What the—seriously?" the girl sputtered.

"Sure." I nodded, crossing my arms. Murphy, seemingly sensing my motives, bared her teeth and hissed. Bubbles made an angry fizzing sound, watching them with suspicious red eyes. I hoped they seemed intimidating enough. Neither of them were really big Pokémon.

The two grunts glanced at each other in disbelief. The boy sighed and dug into his pockets, fishing out a few bills. "You interested in working for Aqua?" he suggested half-heartedly. "You're a little too good at the whole extortion thing."

"I'm not joining your wannabe gang," I informed him cheerfully as he and the scowling girl dumped the money into my outstretched hand. "Bye."

The girl stomped away angrily, muttering under her breath. The boy actually had the nerve to grin. "I wish I could see the look on your face when you do a search on Team Aqua," he said a little cockily. "You'll _flip."_

 _"_ Haha. I doubt it. Goodbye already."

The boy backed away, but continued to talk. "We're gonna have to report this, you know," he said. "Other Aqua Grunts will hear about this. They'll be stronger than us, and they're—"

"If you don't leave in the next five seconds, I'll have Murphy electrocute you."

The boy walked away a little too quickly. Murphy made a disappointed noise, probably mourning the lost opportunity to practice her new Shock Wave attack. I watched them go and relaxed as they slowly receded out of sight. Bubbles made a happy sound and I glanced down at him. He was still ugly, but I was quickly getting used to it.

I camped out in a tent during the nights. I wasn't exactly a stranger to sleeping in tents. When I'd been living in the alleys, I'd dug an old tent out of a dumpster once, patched up the tear in its side, and slept in it for a few weeks. Mauville was mostly an indoor city, but it had been nice to have a small space to call home for a while. Then two other kids stole it when I was gone. I was still a little angry about that, even if it'd been stupid of me in the first place to leave something so nice unattended. But this tent was even nicer than the one I'd lost, even though it was the cheapest one I could buy—it was larger and there weren't any rips in the fabric I had to repair. I spread out my sleeping bag and zipped myself inside. I'd released Murphy and Bubbles to let them sleep outside their Pokéballs; Murphy was curled up in the corner and had made a nest out of my jacket. Bubbles had wormed himself into one of the pouches on the wall of the tent and had already fallen asleep.

"Good night," I said. Murphy gave a sleepy purr. Outside I could hear the sounds of nocturnal Pokémon waking up, the chirping calls of Volbeat and the scurrying movements of Poochyena. I closed my eyes.

It was still surprisingly nice, to have a small space to call home. That hadn't changed.

The night was not as quiet as I thought it would be, but I still managed to fall asleep. That is, I slept until about five in the morning, when the sun peeked over the horizon and every bird Pokémon within earshot decided it was time to loudly announce the fact that they'd woken up. I curled up in my sleeping bag for another half an hour or so, trying to get back to sleep, then realized it was useless and decided to get up.

Breakfast was prepackaged rations which in all honesty, didn't taste very good. But I guess trainers on the road didn't have to be picky, and I'd eaten far worse. Murphy and Bubbles chewed on dried Pokémon food. Murphy tried to steal some of my sausages. I fended her off successfully. Bubbles ate some of her food while she was distracted and preoccupied himself with blowing a layer of foam that bubbles over to cover his whole head.

As we headed further north, I started to run into more and more trainers. Quite a few were rookies like I was, and I thought I even spotted a couple kids I recognized from the registration session in Mauville. They battled with a weird kind of desperate intensity, like they thought they had something to prove. But there were stronger trainers too, mostly as old as I was, which made my own lack of experience even more pathetic. And a few impressively strong young trainers too. I stopped to watch a battle between a short-haired girl about my age and a small boy with blond hair. The girl was commanding an Absol, but the boy (who couldn't have been more than thirteen years old) battled with a speedy dragon-like Pokémon that was beating its opponent into the ground with ease. "Dragon Rush!" he cried, and the green Pokémon streaked into the air, diving down onto the Absol with sickening force. The Absol slumped to the ground and the girl sighed, forking over a few bills to the victorious boy. I wondered if she was embarrassed to lose to a kid so much younger than her. Then I wondered why the hell she even owned an Absol. They were bad luck, everyone knew that. A couple years ago, when I was still living on the streets in Mauville, a trainer had visited one of the city parks and sat with his Absol on a bench that a few of us street kids sometimes took a nap on. And even though the Absol couldn't have been on the bench for more than five minutes, none of us would go near the spot. Bad luck. Cam had laughed about it and purposely slept on the bench, to show how cool he was, I guess—but when night came, some old lady taking an after-dinner walk had gotten nervous and _called the police on him_ to get him out of the park. So there. I told you Absol were bad luck.

I paused, suddenly feeling slightly disturbed. Cam. I hadn't thought about him in a while, even though I was used to running into him every other day when we'd lived in the alleys together. And Amelia—how was she doing? Was she getting along well with her Wingull, Beak or whatever she'd named it? Had she decided to do the Gym challenge? Cam probably wouldn't—he would probably satisfy himself with battling and earning enough money to buy things, even if it was the lazy way out. But he was okay with others looking down on him, as long as he had food to eat and a roof over his head. Amelia…wasn't. She'd hated the way that everyone looked down on us just for being poor, almost as much as she hated their pity. Amelia wouldn't be content with scraping by. She would want to do something big. I remembered the rush I'd felt when I challenged Wattson and thought that I understood the feeling.

Someone suddenly put their hand on my shoulder. Startled, I jolted out of my thoughts and spun around, ready to bolt or throw a punch. I found myself face-to-face with a girl around my age, her hands raised defensively. "Whoa, whoa! Sorry, did I scare you?"

"Yeah." I relaxed, feeling a little stupid. She'd grabbed me so quickly I'd expected someone to jump me. I saw a huge, hulking Aggron at her side and immediately panicked. "You don't want to battle, right? No way I could—"

She interrupted me by laughing. "What? No! You were spacing out, so I just wanted to make sure you okay. I just won my fifth badge, it wouldn't be fair if I battled a rookie."

Instant relief. "Wait, how'd you know I was—"

"A rookie?" she grimaced. "Don't take this personally, but new trainers kind of have this…skittish look to them. Like they're always ready to bolt." she patted me on the shoulder. "Everyone goes through that stage, don't worry about it."

A _stage—_ she'd pretty much described my whole life. But annoyed as I was, I held my tongue. No use in annoying someone who had an Aggron, after all. I changed the subject. "You have _five_ badges?"

"Yes!" she grinned. "Won my fifth one off of Flannery—she's the Gym Leader of Lavaridge. Are you heading there for your first badge?"

"Sure, absolutely," I said. I'd almost forgotten that Lavaridge even had a Gym. "I'm very prepared."

"Good for you," the girl said nonchalantly. Her Aggron had wandered off and was glaring daggers at a flexing Machamp. "It looks like my Aggron's found an opponent—I gotta go. Good luck! Flannery's nice, she uses fire-types and honestly she's probably the most easygoing Leader to fight for your first badge. I think the only Leaders who would be an easier newbie fight are Roxanne and Wattson, ha!"

With that, she left. I stood there, staring dumbly into the distance. Okay, so Flannery was nice. Great. Whatever. I was more worried about the fact that she was, uh, _even harder to fight than Wattson._ I was going to get pummeled. Again.

"This is fine," I said out loud.

It took a few more days of journeying to reach the foot of Mt. Chimney. Closer to the volcano, the air grew hotter and hotter and covered the grass with a thin layer of soot. I ran into a lot of difficulty in my attempts to climb up the mountain path; even though I wasn't exactly unathletic, I was used to the level ground and smooth pavement of Mauville. Not steep, rocky slopes. A pleasant-looking man took one look at my dust-covered clothes and tired expression and laughingly directed me towards the cable car building. I bought a can of lemonade and rested for a while, letting Murphy and Bubbles out of their Pokéballs to stretch their legs (or in Bubbles' case, his flippers). Bubbles investigated the shiny floor and, disturbingly began to lick it after a while. He was eventually distracted by Murphy and ambled over to her, his tongue still sticking out of his mouth. Murphy shot him an annoyed look and began to spark and crackle with electricity. Bubbles backed down.

The cable car ride was nice enough, and definitely beat walking up the mountain. I leaned up against the window and watched the mountainside as we climbed higher and higher. I could see smoke rising from the open mouth of the volcano and the tiny figures of hikers struggling up the rocky ground. The ash grew thicker and thicker. Soon it was hard to see out the windows. When I got out of the cable car and exited onto the mountain peak, the soot was falling in visible flakes, like snow. A wooden sign pointed down a craggy side of the mountain. _JAGGED PASS TO LAVARIDGE TOWN,_ it said in faded painted letters.

Getting down the Jagged Pass was easier said than done, however. I stumbled and slipped, clambered on all fours down through the ledges and uneven terrain. The grass was covered in soot that stuck to my skin and clothes. In a few minutes it looked like I'd been pulled out of a fire. And if that wasn't enough, a few wild Pokémon decided to jump out and attack us every once in a while. I kept Murphy out of her Pokéball for protection—Bubbles' flippers weren't at all suited to the uneven terrain. Murphy, however, seemed to cross the rocky ground with contemptuous ease, pausing to groom herself while I struggled behind her.

After a few hours of this, I paused, panting, to lean against a tree. I could see Lavaridge Town below me, surrounded by the trees. Finally. I whooped in excitement, throwing my arms into the air. And promptly slipped on a loose patch of dirt, sending me sliding down the side of the hill.

Stumbling and slipping, I ended up almost running down the dusty slope in an attempt to stay balanced and upright. Murphy yowled and bounded down after me. A Machop poked its head out from a patch of tall grass, saw me careening down the side of the mountain, and decided not to bother me. I yelled. There was a flat ledge in front of me, if I got there without falling I could stop—

—a man emerged from the trees, walking right into the perfect spot for me to crash into him. I yelled again: "Hey! Look out!" He turned, startled and backing away. I dug my heels into the loose dirt, stumbling and trying to stop.

Thankfully, I slowed down enough to avoid crashing into him, but I tripped over a protruding rock and nearly tumbled over the ledge. The man's hand shot out and he grabbed me by the shoulder, yanking me backwards with such force that I slammed into him, sending the two of us tumbling to the ground in a cloud of dust. And then there was a few seconds of silence as I tried to register what had just happened. Murphy finally caught up to me, leaping down to pad towards me, nosing my face carefully.

"Ow," I said finally, trying to sit up. I'd hit my shoulder on the ground pretty hard when I'd landed. Next to me, the man I'd knocked over was rubbing at his temples gingerly. A glint caught my eye and I glanced down at the ground. A small silver object was rolling away from him. It looked like a lapel pin, inlaid with a small multicolored stone. It was delicately made, probably worth more than all my possessions. I fought down the side of me that was wondering if I could steal it and sell it. Instead, I stood up, tearing my eyes away from the pin and took a good look at the man I'd crashed into.

I was not enthusiastic about what I saw.

* * *

A/N: Here comes a special boy~

I hope you're enjoying this story so far. If you've got time to leave feedback, that'd be great—I always like to hear what you enjoyed, or what you think should improve.

Coming up next: Riley is caught in an awkward social situation, runs into an old friend, and makes a new one.


	7. Chapter 7: Look at Mr Fancypants

A/N: Sorry for the delay, been busy lately. But Sun and Moon are out, and I'll get to play them in a week or so, so I felt motivated to upload this.

We finally get around to introducing a character I like very much. Anyways, feedback would be really appreciated.

* * *

The man I'd barreled into was tall and slender, and dressed expensively, looking impressively clean and composed despite the ash dusting his immaculate pale hair. Instead of the sturdy, practical hiking attire I'd seen around Mt. Chimney, he was wearing an expensive-looking dark suit with a crisp white collar shirt and a weird red…scarf? (Whatever it was, it looked fancy.) His fingers were adorned with thick silver rings. In short, everything about him screamed, _money! I have lots of money!_ Which was meant this was a Potentially Bad Situation.

"Sorry! Sorry!" I said, panicking a little. It wouldn't do to upset a rich boy. Rich people were generally trouble. Sure, some of them were nice enough to give handouts sometimes, but they could also could turn very nasty. A glint of light caught my eye and I glanced down to see the silver pin with its strange multicolored stone at my feet. "Uh, I think you dropped this—" I snagged the lapel pin in my fingers and almost dropped it again. A tingling sensation shot through my skin when my hand met the iridescent stone, like an electric shock. Something about that rock was weird. I looked up. He was staring at me.

"Here." I ignored the tingles and held it out to him, hoping it wouldn't explode in my face.

"Thank you," he said, taking the pin back quickly. He continued to stare at me cautiously. I hoped he wasn't wondering how much he could sue me for. Murphy padded out cautiously and went to sniff at the man's shoes, tugging curiously at his…were those _designer_ socks? Geez.

"Murphy, don't!" I hissed, nudging her with my foot. She ignored me completely and began to brush against his pants. "Wow, I'm really sorry—" Great. Now Mr. Rich Fancypants was going to make me foot his dry cleaning bill.

To my surprise, he laughed a little. "It's fine," he said. And I could tell that he wasn't just saying it, he really didn't mind. He bent down to pat Murphy on the head. She purred, arching up into his hand. I blinked in shock. "Meowth aren't commonly used by trainers in Hoenn. I haven't seen one in a while." he straightened up and looked at me. "You said his name was Murphy?"

"Murphy's a she. It's a gender-neutral name," I said automatically, already used to people assuming that Murphy was male.

He smiled slightly. "Of course," he said. I sensed a slight hint of indulgence in his tone. It annoyed me slightly, but but I kept my mouth shut. Murphy purred even more loudly, pressing meaningfully against his pants leg, searching for more attention and leaving cream-colored hairs all over the dark fabric. I hoped that whoever this guy was, he was rich enough that he'd bought more than one of those suits.

"She likes you," I said, a touch of envy creeping into my voice. It had taken ages for Murphy to like me, and now she was snuggling up to someone she'd known for all of five minutes. It was a little disheartening, but I relaxed a little. Surely anyone that Murphy liked couldn't be all that bad. I hoped.

"Pokémon seem to warm up to me quickly," he said, which both annoyed and saddened me a little. He must have noticed my crestfallen expression because he quickly added: "You should understand that it's no reflection on your own ability as a trainer. She seems to have bonded with you quite strongly."

"Huh? How'd you know?"

"When you ran into me and fell, she immediately put herself between us, trying to see if I was a threat. She was ready to protect you. I could tell she was startled—her ears were flattened and her fur was bristling—but she still wanted to make sure you were alright. Meowth love shiny objects, but she ignored the pin I dropped to watch you." he gestured to the shining stickpin on his lapel.

I blinked. He'd noticed that much already? Wow. Maybe he was more than just some lost rich dude then. "Oh," I said lamely, glancing down at Murphy as the man gave into her shameless bid for attention and bent down to give her a proper scratch behind the ears. She purred luxuriously, arching her back.

"I'm Riley. Who are you?" I blurted out. He glanced up at me curiously and I rushed to explain. "You've got Murphy's attention, so I figured…"

He laughed. It sounded surprisingly good-natured. "I see. My name is Steven."

I half-expected the conversation to end there. I had no idea who this guy was besides the fact that he liked Pokémon and was rich. There wasn't much of a reason for him to interact with a random rookie who'd crashed into him. I assumed he'd excuse himself politely and leave. Heck, if he didn't do it, I probably would. I wasn't the best at making small talk with people whose suits cost more money than I'd ever had.

In hindsight, the conversation should have stopped there. That would have been better for everyone involved, especially me. But it didn't stop there. And I blame Steven. _You hear that, Steven?_

"Where did you get this Meowth?" he said suddenly, as if he'd just remembered something important. I floundered for a second, caught off guard by the abrupt switch in conversation topic. I thought about lying, then I realized that there was no way I could come up with a convincing lie in such a short amount of time. So I went for the long story short.

"I got Murphy…kind of by accident, actually."

Steven stared at me and opened his mouth, probably to ask another question. Then I remembered that there was a reason to lie. Because the actual story of how I got Murphy was embarrassing as _fuck_. So I cut him off as quickly as I could. "What are you doing on this mountain?"

"You could say I'm surveying the area," he said evasively, as if it was a perfectly normal thing to go survey a soot-spewing volcano in a fancy suit. It was a little suspicious. It was also absolutely none of my business. But he was still standing there and looking at me with a kind of curious expression, and I couldn't just up and leave, could I? I was the one who'd started this conversation and I was going to have to stay in it.

"What's there to survey around here?" I said, trying to figure out a polite way to leave as soon as possible. Murphy had grown bored with our conversation and had wandered over to a sooty patch of tall grass, digging at the ground with her paws. I sympathized; I also wanted to exit the situation we were in.

"There's lots to survey around here," he said after a pause. "Different types of volcanic and igneous rock, for one: obsidian, pumice—and metamorphic rock too, since the heat and pressure from the volcano is so intense. And in the deeper caves in Fiery Path, sometimes Fire Stones can be—"

"Wait, sorry," I blurted out, a little surprised by the sudden energy that had entered his voice. "Did you come here just to look at _rocks?"_

Steven looked a little miffed. Damn it, I'd managed to offend him after all. "Yes," he said.

"Oh." I cast about frantically for something to say, hoping that he wouldn't get too angry at me. Why was he interested in talking to me anyways? Maybe I should have just grabbed the stickpin and made a run for it. I could have lived for like, a year off the money I got for selling it, and he probably had enough money to buy himself a truckload of stupid rainbow rocks. I settled for saying, "Are you a trainer? I didn't think anyone besides trainers would come up here."

A flash of surprise crossed Steven's face; he stared at me, obviously caught off guard for the first time in our conversation. I shifted from foot to foot. Had I said something blatantly offensive? Did I accidentally reveal the fact that I'd wanted to steal his pin out loud?

"Do you know—" Steven began, then stopped himself. He laughed suddenly. "No, never mind. It's nothing. Where are you from, and what did you say your name was?"

"Riley," I said. "I'm from…Mauville City." It wasn't technically a lie, although when most people thought of Mauville they thought of glamorous, high-tech apartments and flashy streets, not dimly lit alleys and dumpsters. But the last thing I wanted to do was admit that I'd been living on the street just weeks ago.

"Mauville." he repeated. "That's not exactly secluded."

"Sorry?"

"Oh, nothing—please excuse me." Now he was the one with an awkward expression on his face, almost like he couldn't decide if he wanted to be offended or amused. I stared back at him, hoping that he would say something interesting. Thankfully, Murphy decided to rescue me from a rapidly crumbling social situation.

"Meow!" We both turned to see Murphy facing down a small gray Pokémon with a spring-like tail. On its head was a large pink orb. It was bouncing up and down and with an adorably curious expression on its face. As I watched, it bounced closer and closer to us. For a split second I thought it was going to come up to me, but it visibly changed direction and began to bounce towards…Steven. Damn it.

"A Spoink," said Steven unnecessarily. "They're fairly common around here." Um, duh. I knew what a Spoink was. He turned to me. "Are you going to battle it?"

"I guess," I said, not very unenthusiastic about the idea of having someone watch me battle. "What do you say, Murphy? You feeling up to a battle?" _Say no,_ I pleaded mentally.

Murphy purred and faced the Spoink, baring her teeth. That was a yes if I ever saw one. Fine. Have it your way.

"Fake Out!" I said, opting for the safe option. The Spoink squealed in surprise and stumbled backwards as Murphy smacked it in the face with both paws. "Then follow up with Bite!"

The Spoink was still reeling from Murphy's first strike; even an attack as short-ranged as Bite connected easily. I remembered the type effectiveness chart I'd seen in a book at the Pokémon Center—super effective! Yes! "Bite again," I said.

Unfortunately, the Spoink had recovered; it bounded up with startling speed and dodged Murphy's attack. The ball on its head glowed and shot a glowing beam at her. Murphy stumbled suddenly, looking unsteady on her paws. Darn it, that was a Confuse Ray if I ever saw one. Which I had, but only once or twice.

The Spoink had bounced backwards, out of close combat range. "Shock Wave!" I said. Murphy managed to shake off the dizzying effects long enough to emit a ray of lightning that arced through the air with startling speed. The Spoink ducked, but the electric bolt followed and hit it directly. It made a noise of discomfort.

"Nice!" I said, happy that she seemed to get better at using Shock Wave. Murphy was still confused, though, and seemed to have lost her usual agility. The Spoink shot a glowing ray at her and it connected; she staggered backwards, her fur fluffed in agitation. She stumbled and fell flat on her face.

"Murphy," I said, and to my surprise, the sound of her voice made her pause. "It's okay. Calm down." She shook her head and growled, her tail lashing from side to side. But her fur flattened.

Steven muttered something under his breath that I didn't catch. I jumped; I'd forgotten he was there. Pushing down my irritation, I said: "Shock Wave!"

Murphy's fur glowed with static electricity once more, but this time she yelped in pain and flinched as some of the electricity arced backwards and shocked her. Damn it, it was the confusion acting up again. The Spoink took advantage of this opportunity to shoot another glowing ray at her. Murphy tripped over a rock at the last second and the beam flew over her head. Dumb luck, but I'd take it.

"One more hit, buddy," I said. Bite would be the better option here, but the Spoink was still out of range and Murphy was still having trouble standing upright without falling over. "Shock Wave!"

It took a few more commands to get Murphy to respond, but once she did she immediately shot another bolt of lightning at the Spoink. It made an unhappy sound and stopped putting up a fight, bouncing much more slowly and looking at me with a half-wary, half-expectant expression in its eyes.

"It looks like this Spoink has stopped resisting," said Steven. I glanced at him; he was watching me carefully. Murphy made a relieved sound and sat down, shaking her head as she tried to fight off the remaining dizziness. "Are you going to catch it?" he asked.

"Uh." Out of nowhere, I remembered Thorn and the hateful look in his beady eyes as he'd broken out of the Pokéball for the first time. I shivered a little. "I dunno. You think it wants me to?"

Steven looked surprised. "It certainly seems so," he said after a long pause, during which I fidget anxiously and the Spoink continued to stare at me, bouncing up and down rhythmically.

"How can you tell?" I pressed.

"Well," Steven said thoughtfully. "It hasn't run away by now, even though it stopped fighting. So it's clearly waiting for something. Many Pokémon actually wish to be caught by trainers, to get stronger or to see new places." he turned and looked at me carefully. "Why did you ask that?"

"Ask what?" I said absently, still staring at the Spoink. Sure, it had stuck around, but did it want food or did it actually want to come with me? I wanted to be sure. Despite what he'd said, I couldn't really imagine why Pokémon wanted to be caught. And I never wanted any member of our team to feel trapped against their will, the way I'd trapped Thorn in his Pokéball, the way I'd felt trapped in Manville.

"You asked me if I thought that the Spoink wanted to be caught by you." Steven approached the Spoink, which didn't flee, and knelt down closer to it. "I don't hear a lot of trainers, especially rookies, ask that question."

"Yeah, well," I said, following his lead and kneeling down to look at the Spoink carefully. It stared at me and sniffed the air curiously. I will grudgingly admit that it was cute. "I had a Roselia that taught me a lesson."

Steven was staring at me now instead of the Spoink. "What—" he began, then cut himself off. "Never mind, that can wait till another time." _Another time!?_ Was he planning on seeing me again? Did he have a habit of stalking rookie trainers or something? Groaning inwardly, I slowly reached my hand out towards the Spoink. It sniffed my fingers and hopped a little closer.

"What do you say? You want to come with me?" I asked, feeling unusually nervous. The Spoink began bouncing a little faster, bobbing up and down in what I thought might have been a nod. I dug through my bag and found a Pokéball, gently tapping it on the head with the red-and-white sphere. There was the familiar swooshing sound as the ball opened and the Spoink was sucked in, and then a cheerful _ding_ as the capture was registered. Unlike my experience with Thorn, the Pokéball had barely shook at all. It seemed like the Spoink had really wanted to be caught.

I clutched the ball tighter and stood up, my hand shaking just a little. Bubbles had pretty much been forced onto me, so this was the first Pokémon I'd caught since Thorn. I'd get it right this time.

Steven straightened up. He was still watching me carefully. It was a little weird, to be honest. I decided to break the silence. "So, uh. I think that went okay?"

"Your battling skills could use a little more polishing," Steven replied. I felt like jumping off the ledge. It'd been a rhetorical question! Rhetorical! "In general, it's best to give Pokémon more detailed commands rather than just telling them what attack to use. Pokémon tend to do better when they have a better idea of the trainer's strategy. For a battle against a wild Pokémon, this doesn't matter that much. But for a battle against another trainer, this can make quite a significant difference."

"Uh, okay," I said. I'd expected a short comment, not a lecture.

"After a Pokémon battles with its trainer for a certain amount of time, it will likely remember common strategies and even learn to adopt the trainer's ways of thinking," he continued. "Then it becomes less necessary for the trainer to give very detailed commands because their Pokémon can fill in the rest. That creates an advantage in higher levels of battle because the trainer won't be forced to reveal their strategy to the opponent. But I'm guessing you haven't had Murphy for that long yet, so you should work on fine-tuning your commands. She should be able to understand most of what you tell her by now."

It took me a while to digest all that. "I guess I haven't thought about it before," I admitted. Was this something they taught kids in Trainer School? More common knowledge that I'd missed out on? I hoped not. "I guess I'm still kind of new to this."

Steven raised an eyebrow. "You're a little old to be a beginner." There was an unspoken question in his tone there. One that I didn't really feel like answering.

"Tell me about it," I said instead.

"Do you have a PokéNav?" he said suddenly.

"Uh." I remembered seeing an ad for the new PokéNav in a window once. It'd looked sleek, high-tech, and very expensive. I also remembered stealing a PokéNav from a passing trainer once and selling it for a pretty substantial chunk of money. But there was no way I was going to mention that. "No."

"Never mind then," said Steven. He smiled at me pleasantly. "I have a feeling we'll be seeing more of each other." _Wow. What a weirdo._

"Sure," I said evasively. I glanced at the sky. The sun was lowering in the sky and I seized the opportunity. "Uh, are you heading to Lavaridge? 'Cause I am, and I gotta go if I wanna get there before it gets dark."

"Alright," said Steven, finally seeming to catch onto the fact that I wanted out. "I actually just left Lavaridge. I'm heading further up the mountain." he nodded at me. "I should be going as well. Good luck to you."

I watched him as he gave Murphy a final scratch behind the ears and left to trek up the steep rocky slopes. What a weird guy, I thought. Still. He'd given useful advice. I paused to glance down at Murphy, who was busy washing the soot off her paws. More detailed battle strategies, huh?

 _Well,_ I reflected gloomily. _I'll have to battle Flannery sometime soon. So I'll get to put that to the test._

This did not improve my mood.

* * *

Lavaridge Town was surprisingly nice for a town at the foot of an active volcano. The small wooden houses were nothing like the gleaming apartment buildings I was used to, and the fresh air was pleasantly warm. The people living here dressed simply, in practical but comfortable-looking clothes. And everyone seemed relaxed, friendly. A few total strangers waved at me and greeted me. It made me a little uncomfortable, but not necessarily unhappy.

"I have a question," I said, when the nurse at the Pokémon Center returned my team to me. "Can you tell me a little bit about my Spoink? I just caught it, so…"

The nurse nodded and glanced at the monitor on the counter. "Well, it's a _he,_ for starters. His ability is Thick Fat and he knows Confuse Ray, Psych Up, Psybeam, and Odor Sleuth." she looked up at me again, smiling a little sheepishly. "Sorry, uh, is there anything specific you'd like to know?"

"Sure. Uh, how do trainers normally know all of this without asking?" Was there a magical sixth trainer sense that I simply lacked?

"Well, most trainers have PokéNavs or something similar. Those devices have a scanner in them like the one in my computer." she tapped the display on the counter. "So you can scan a Pokémon after you catch it and receive basic information about it. And sometimes, trainers with a lot of potential are given Pokédexes. Those are even fancier." she looked up at me. "Or you could just ask a nurse at a Pokémon Center. None of us mind. Although a PokéNav is worth saving up for, in my opinion."

"Cool," I said, pretty sure that there was no way I was going to spend so much money so I could get information that I could get for free at a Pokémon Center. But I thanked her anyways.

I let the Spoink out of his Pokéball, in a pretty quiet part of town. I'd remembered how much Thorn had clammed up when I'd introduced myself to him in an unfamiliar environment and I figured that meeting the Spoink outside rather than inside would help. But that didn't seem to matter. The Spoink seemed pretty calm when he emerged from the Pokéball. He bounced steadily, the ball on his head gleaming dully.

"Hey," I said. "I'm Riley. I'm your trainer—and, uh, I don't really know how much of this you understand."

The Spoink continued to stare at me, bouncing in place. It was a little unnerving. I couldn't detect any resentment in his eyes, though. I thought I even saw a little excitement. So maybe Mr. Fancypants had been right after all. Who would have thunk it.

"Uh, here—you should meet your teammates," I said. With a click, Bubbles and Murphy emerged from their Pokéballs. "You've already met Murphy, when we were, uh." Beating you up? "But this is Bubbles! He's a Skrelp, and apparently they don't normally live around here. So…" I trailed off. Bubbles was sniffing the Spoink curiously with his slightly damp snout. The Spoink seemed to be tolerating it, at least, and was sniffing him back with equal curiosity. Murphy watched them for a few seconds, got bored, and tried to wander off. I dragged her back. "Be nice, he's our new teammate," I said. She shot me a disdained look and padded closer to join them. I decided to stop talking and just watch my three Pokémon interact.

 _My_ Pokémon. I shivered a little. Sometimes it would hit me how freaking lucky I was to have my own Pokémon and finally be out of Mauville. I decided to never go back, then glumly realized that I would have to return to Mauville eventually if I wanted Wattson's badge. _Whatever. I'll save that for last, if I get that far._

The Spoink squealed in alarm. I jolted out of my thoughts to see Murphy up on her hind legs, swatting at the shiny pearl on his head. Her eyes were practically glowing with interest. The Spoink backed off and shot a Psybeam at her. It missed, but Murphy was undeterred and inched closer.

"Murphy! Cut it out! That's part of his body," I said. She turned and stared at me with mild annoyance. "How would you feel if I started trying to yank that coin off your head?"

Murphy stared at me for a few seconds and broke into a disinterested yawn, padding off to groom herself. Bubbles hopped closer to her and blew a bubble. She moved away politely.

I turned to look at the Spoink. It—no, _he_ was still bouncing up and down—I wondered if he ever stopped to take a break. The small ball on his head was a pale shade of reddish-pink, maybe a little bigger than a ping-pong ball.

"Ping Pong!" I said loudly. Murphy bristled in surprise at my loud exclamation. Bubbles fell over. "That's your name. There we go. Ping Pong." I laughed, immensely pleased with myself. I hadn't even had to think about it for very long.

Ping Pong did not react to his new name. Instead, he looked a little bored and hopped off to investigate a nearby fountain. Bubbles managed to inchworm himself over to me and attach himself to my leg.

I evaluated my situation. I had three Pokémon, none of which hated me (so far), and I'd made it to Lavaridge without falling off a cliff. So far, much better than what I'd hoped for. I grinned. Not bad. Improvement was slow, but it was happening.

"Holy shit. Riley?"

Huh? I turned to see a familiar wide-eyed girl standing behind me. As always, her stare reminded me of a Hoothoot, but her skin wasn't as pale as it had been in Mauville, and she was dressed in much more comfortable looking clothes. There was a Wingull perched on her head. My grin grew wider.

"Amelia!" I cheered, grabbing her by the arm. "What—wow, you look good!" And it was true. She looked a lot happier and healthier than she'd been before. But it wasn't just that—she carried herself with a different attitude. I realized it was confidence.

"Thanks, and you look just as dumb," she said jokingly, tugging out of my grasp. She punched me on the shoulder affectionately and I made mock gasps of pain. "What the heck are you doing here, Riley?"

"Challenging the Gym," I replied. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Amelia puffed up a little. "Beating the Gym," she said.

"Haha, that's—wait, what? Really?"

"Yep!" Amelia reached into her pocket and pulled out a shiny metal case. She opened it and revealed a red metallic badge in the shape of a flame. "Check it out!" The Wingull squawked and she reached up to ruffle its feathers. "Beaky was a boss."

I stared at the badge. It gleamed in the light of the setting sun. "You beat the Gym with just Beaky?" I said dumbly.

"Nope! I caught more! Look—" Amelia reached for the Pokéballs on her belt and in a flash of red light, a Sandshrew and a freaking Linoone were standing at her feet. "This is Sandy and Ziggy." No points for guessing which was which. Amelia had obviously not gotten better at nicknaming her Pokémon.

"Wow," I said. That was all I could really say. Her Pokémon looked strong, at least to my relatively untrained eye. I had to admit, I was a little jealous. But it was good to see her again. I'd forgotten how easy it was to talk to her.

"What's up with you?" she asked. "Did you beat Wattson? I've always wanted him to give the old one-two." she waved her hands through the air. "I remember once he caught me digging through the dumpsters near the Gym and chased me out. What a dick, right?" she looked at me expectantly.

"Oh." I paused, wondered if I should lie, and decided not to. Amelia could smell bullshit from a mile away. "I battled him, but I lost." I ducked my head in embarrassment, but she didn't seem to notice.

"Eh, sucks," she said, shrugging and slightly dislodging the Wingull on her head. Her Sandshrew and Linoone had wandered off and Murphy was staring at them suspiciously from a safe distance. "Whatever, you can get back at him for it later. Where's your team? I wanna see them."

"I've got Murphy, and Ping Pong—just caught him." I gestured towards the fountain, where the Spoink was hopping up and down under a stream of water. "Oh, and Bubbles." I pointed downwards at my foot. Amelia looked down to see Bubbles, wrapped around my leg, staring up at her with bulging red eyes.

"Holy fuck," she said. "What the fuck is that thing?"

"He's a Skrelp," I said.

"What the hell is a Skrelp? Why does he look so weird?" she bent down to take a closer look. "And what kind of shitty name is Bubbles? This thing does not look bubbly."

"They're not native to Hoenn, I think," I said. "I got him—uh. I got him from a breeder. Sort of. And I couldn't really think of another name."

"What!?" Amelia straightened up. "You bought him from a _breeder?_ Did you have to sell a kidney to afford that?"

"No, I kinda blackmailed him." I paused to appreciate her impressed expression and continued: "he was dumping Pokémon he'd bred in a lake and I caught him doing it."

"So?"

"That's illegal."

"Why?"

"Something about ecosystems—I don't really care," I said. "Anyways, he gave me Bubbles so I'd keep my mouth shut."

"Wow. Nice." Amelia looked thoughtful. "You think there are any of the Pokémon left in the lake? Bred Pokémon are supposed to be all fancy and stuff, right?"

"Yeah, Bubbles can do some pretty weird stuff." I shook my leg to try and get him off. He ignored me and began to snuggle his head against my pants. "Oh, and after I got him, these two wannabes came up and tried to take him from me."

"Wannabe gangs?" Amelia stuffed her hands in her pockets. "Jeez, I didn't think they'd exist outside of the alleys."

"Yeah, I know, right?" I said. "They wore ripped pants. To make themselves look tough."

"Amazing."

"And they had the stupidest name. Team Aqua. What the heck is up with that?"

Amelia paused and frowned. "Hang on," she said. "Did you say Team Aqua?"

"Uh, yeah."

"That's…" she trailed off. Then she burst out: "that's the stupidest gang name I've ever heard! It's not scary. It's not cool. It sounds stupid!"

"Yeah, so I beat them," I said nonchalantly. "Bubbles beat them, really. He can do this boiling water attack—it's super cool, you should see it."

"Well, water's gonna be useful," said Amelia. "The Gym here is full of fire-types. I'm surprised it hasn't burned down by now. Flannery's got a Numel and this thing…what's it called…" she snapped her fingers. "Uh, a Vulpix! Yeah!"

"Any tips?"

"Numel just sits in one place and boosts its attack and defense. It gets slower after a while, though. And Vulpix just runs around trying not to get hit, firing off Confuse Ray like there's no tomorrow." she smirked. "Too bad Ziggy's faster."

I nodded, thinking frantically about a speedy fire-type Pokémon, darting around and dishing out fireballs. I was not nervous at all. "Could you help me me out with training?" I blurted out. "I mean, not now, 'cause it's kinda late, but—"

"Sure," Amelia said, before I was done talking. "I charge two hundred bucks an hour—haha, no, I'm kidding," she said quickly. "Yeah, I'll give you some pointers tomorrow. You've got some time to train anyways. Flannery's gonna be gone tomorrow, she's heading up the mountain to investigate something or the other. I wasn't really paying attention when she said that."

"Thanks," I said, relieved. "What the heck is there to investigate in a volcano anyways? Rocks?" I remembered Steven. Was there a secret rock collector's club on the mountain?

"No idea," Amelia shrugged. "Are you hungry? We could grab food."

I tore my thoughts away from rock collections. "Sure, from the cafeteria in the Pokémon Center, or—"

"Nah, none of that," Amelia said, grinning. "Let's. Eat. Out."

"Seriously?" I couldn't believe it. The idea of eating out was a weird one, to say the least. The only place Amelia and I had regularly ate out at was the soup kitchen.

"Yeah, I got enough money from beating Flannery to last a while." And with that, my resolve to beat Flannery rocketed up. Then I deflated.

"I don't know if I can afford—" I began.

"I'll cover you. Just pay me back sometime."

"You're the coolest."

"Yeah, yeah. Remember it."


	8. Chapter 8: It's Complicated

A/N: I'm increasingly busy so this chapter is short but still fairly important, and from a different POV. Riley doesn't know the whole picture, after all.

Also, thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter!

* * *

[Excerpt from the front page of _The_ _Lilycove Tribune_ ]

 _WHO WATCHES THE WATCHMEN? (Opinion)_

 _Finding direction in the wake of the decade's most startling exposé_

Weeks have passed since Hoenn News Network dropped a bombshell that would send the Pokémon League and Association into chaos, and yet the million-dollar question still remains unanswered: who exactly is stealing from League revenue and research, and why weren't they caught the moment they showed signs of illicit activity?

On March 15th, discrepancies in records of cash flows and classified documents spurred a series of investigations conducted by none other than the Elite Four. What they discovered was nothing less than a conspiracy worthy of the most insular internet forums: for over four years, large quantities of government funds were being misappropriated by insider threats working from within the Association and League. But corruption and embezzlement are run-of-the-mill scandals, almost expected. The real surprise was the discovery that decades worth of top-secret research was being secretly smuggled and conveyed to an unknown third party agent. Of course, the exact nature of what was stolen remains classified even today. But leading scientists and high-level officials alike agree that the true cause for alarm is not the staggering amount of money lost, but the potential for hostile entities to get their hands on what would be considered some of the most dangerous information that the government possesses.

"We were able to confirm that the leaked information encompasses a wide variety of areas," says Champion Steven Stone. "The League is particularly concerned about the theft of material relating to Mega Evolution and Infinity Energy, among others." When pressed, he refuses to elaborate further.

Mega Evolution: a concept so new and shockingly powerful that only the most high-level trainers are authorized by the League to utilize it. Infinity Energy: Devon Corporation's secret to success and the lynchpin for over half of Hoenn's industries. The idea that a non-state actor, terrorist group, or even a foreign power could get their hands on some of Hoenn's most heavily guarded secrets is astounding and terrifying. So if no one's going to ask the question, I will: how the _heck_ did no one notice that this was happening?

In the past few years, while scandal after scandal rocked Kanto and Unova, we in Hoenn thought ourselves fortunate to have if not a perfect government, at least a transparent one. Sadly, this idea turned out to be nothing short of delusional. As people all across the nation called for an admittance of responsibility, some insight into what went wrong, both the League and Association remained silent. The unanswered questions built up. Where were the internal checks and balances that the Association prided itself on having? What were we even paying the League officials to do in Ever Grande? And who, or what, was stealing from our government for so long? What do they want? Can they be caught?

At this point, the degree of corruption within the League and Association is currently unknown. The only explanation for how the embezzlement was able to remain hidden for so long is that the hostile actors in question have already managed to infiltrate our political and legal systems to a frightening degree. As newspapers and newscasters all over Hoenn have already concluded, a scheme of this magnitude and duration would most likely be the handicraft of a highly organized network of individuals. But the responsible group remains yet unknown. And while they remain uncaught, and possibly still hidden within the ranks of the League and Pokémon Association, it might not be at all paranoid to treat all government action as suspect. Can we really be certain, for example, that the same entities who had a hand in stealing from the League for so long did not also have a hand in the closure of Sea Mauville's valuable research base? Or the sudden appointment of Petalburg's new Gym Leader? Or the League's most recent initiative to massively increase the number of licensed trainers?

These questions remain unanswered. And the people of Hoenn seem to have little choice but to blindly remain under the jurisdiction of a system of officials who seem reluctant to give us a better picture of what's actually happening. And as unrest surges and faith in the institutions meant to protect us plunges, it would do all of us good to remember: the watchmen need to be watched just like anyone else.


	9. Chapter 9: I Find Out About Ecoterror

**A/N:** Hey everyone...so, it's been a while, eh?

...Anyways, sorry for disappearing for, uh, a year. My life changed and very suddenly got a lot busier, and I lost a lot of time and energy that I previously used to write. Don't know how many of you are still here, but this story is not dead. I promise.

Onto the chapter, and thank you for reading and reviewing. It was reading all your comments that got me to finish this.

* * *

 _Murphy's Law: Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong._

* * *

Ping Pong tried really hard for a Pokémon that just wasn't very good at battling.

"Jeez," I muttered, after Ping Pong missed a Psybeam for the third time in a row. I immediately felt bad because he turned and gave me an adorably sad look; I apologized immediately and he perked up.

"Why does my life suck?" I said, to no one in particular, when I was certain that the Spoink couldn't hear.

"Your life sucks because you suck," said Amelia, who was her usual reassuring self. "Get good." I picked up an empty Potion container and threw it at her, but it just bounced off her shoulder. Sighing, I flopped on the grass and closed my eyes, going over the past few days.

Amelia, god bless her soul, had stuck with me throughout it all with only minimal complaining. Her own Pokémon were pretty competent, even though she seemed to have an even vaguer idea about Pokémon training than I did. Beaky, the Wingull that was her starter, was a remarkably ruthless fighter that frightened Ping Pong into near-tears the first time we had them spar. Sandy the uncreatively named Sandshrew had a bit of a lazy streak but was remarkably sturdy. But the one I was most jealous of was Ziggy, the Linoone that Amelia had prematurely nicknamed without considering its evolution. Its sleek strength and casual alertness reminded me of the Linoone I'd tried to catch for my starter. I sat up and glanced at Murphy, who was washing her face daintily with one paw. Sandy the Sandshrew made a friendly attempt to move closer to her, and she politely got up and moved a few feet away.

"It's not that bad," Amelia said vaguely as the two of us watched Ping Pong fire off Psybeams haphazardly.

"Yeah, it is."

"Okay, it's a little bad." she shrugged, looking a little gloomy. "Look on the bright side. Those beams are pretty strong if they do hit something. We just gotta work on aim."

We devised a training plan. I would set up numbered targets for Ping Pong to aim at and call out the numbers to tell him where to attack. The goal was to get him to aim accurately and fire as quickly as possible. This went about as well as you can imagine.

"At least he's hitting the targets now," I said tiredly, my throat sore after an entire afternoon of yelling at various passerby to duck when Ping Pong misfired yet another Psybeam.

"Your life does suck," Amelia said cheerfully. She was in a good mood. Beaky had just demonstrated the ability to launch sharp razor-like gusts of wind that were a pain in the ass to dodge. The trainer that Beaky had narrowly missed had yelled at us and said something about "flinging Air Cutters everywhere," so we assumed that was what it was called. Meanwhile, I had a Spoink that was only sort of okay at hitting things.

"At least the Gym won't open for a few days," Amelia said as we called it a day and retreated it back to the Pokémon Center. "Heard Flannery's busy with something or the other."

"What are Gym Leaders busy with outside of battling, anyways?"

"Dunno. Maybe they've got day jobs." Amelia snickered.

The Pokémon Center wasn't too crowded, which meant we each got rooms and beds to ourselves. Dinner was provided courtesy of the cafeteria in the Center, and while the food wasn't great it was still free food. We both gorged ourselves and managed to sneak a few rolls and some fruit into our pockets. Our Pokémon sprawled on the floor, eating canned and dried food out of bowls. Murphy looked slightly unenthusiastic about her bowlful of pellets, so I snuck her some of my dinner under the table. Bubbles was using the water bowl as a miniature bathtub. He looked even uglier when wet.

The television mounted on the wall was airing the news. Amelia ignored it entirely. I watched for a few minutes as the newscaster talked about something or the other to do with a new Gym Leader in Petalburg. I clenched my fork between my teeth and leaned back in my chair as an image of a man in a red jacket appeared on the screen. He looked stern. And very stiff. Probably a lot of fun at parties.

"Wow," said Amelia, who had finally noticed what I was staring at. "Get a load of that guy."

"He looks like a total stick in the mud," I said. Amelia snickered and I smiled to myself, pleased at my own wit, as the newscaster on the screen frowned and glanced offscreen. Her expression changed and she looked at something behind the camera before talking again, more rapidly, as the Petalburg Leader disappeared from the screen and a new headline appeared.

"…interrupt this special report to bring you breaking news: another attack by the eco-terrorist group calling themselves Team Aqua, this time on the Lilycove City Hall—preliminary accounts state that several low-ranking members of the group attempted to set off an explosive device but were stopped by law enforcement—currently it is unclear what motivated this attack—"

A short video clip played of policemen in heavy body armor wrestling a blue-clad figure to the ground. The fork fell from my mouth and clattered onto the floor. I stared at the screen. Then I took another look, just to make sure I wasn't hallucinating.

"Amelia?" I said dumbly.

"Yeah?" said Amelia, who had been trying to nudge a purring Murphy away from her leg.

"You remember what I was saying a couple days ago? About the wannabe gang kids? With ripped clothes? Team Aqua?"

"Yeah, what?" she said, frowning. I pointed at the television. She glanced at it, turned back to me, then the realization hit her and she whipped around to stare at the television, mouth dropping open.

"Holy shit," said Amelia.

I made a sound that was something along the lines of: "Nnnngkk."

"Holy shit," Amelia said again. "They weren't wannabes after all."

"Nnnnngkkkkk."

"This guy's wearing ripped pants too. Is it like a uniform thing?"

I assembled my thoughts. "I threatened to have Murphy _electrocute_ one of them!"

"Cool," said Amelia.

"It's not cool! It's the opposite of cool!" I yelled. A few other trainers turned to stare at our table, which made me even more nervous. I lowered my voice. "I thought—I thought they were like, kids trying to be tough or whatever—they're actually a serious, for real gang, or like a secret organization, or—"

"—classifying Team Aqua as a terrorist group—" I heard the newscaster say.

"A _terrorist group!_ " I said in utter disbelief. There was no way this was happening. Even my life didn't suck this much. I could deal with not having money or weird Pokémon or whatever—but surely even I didn't have bad enough luck that I would go and piss off two members of a real, actual, bunch of _terrorists_.

"You beat them up, right?" Amelia crossed her arms. "You think you'll get some kind of public service award for it?"

"No!" I said loudly. "I think I'll get murdered in my bed tonight by some terrorist out for revenge!"

Amelia considered this. "If you die, can I have your stuff?"

"I'm serious!"

"Dude, chill," said Amelia, leaning back in her chair. "It's probably no big deal."

" _No big deal—"_

"Okay! It's kind of a big deal."

There was a clattering sound as Murphy batted my fork across the floor. I took a deep breath, tried not to freak out, failed and slammed my hand onto the table. "Oh my god," I said dumbly. "I need to take off these clothes."

Amelia stared at me. I registered what I'd said and looked around, hoping that no one had heard. Unfortunately I'd been louder than I intended, because people were staring.

"What I meant to say," I said, lowering my voice to a whisper and hoping my face wasn't as red as it felt. "I need to change my clothes. I need new clothes. Now."

"Eh? Why?" Amelia said.

"If those Team Aqua kids are telling everyone in their gang about the kid who stole their Skrelp," I hissed, "I don't want to look anything like what they say I do! I need new clothes. A haircut. Plastic surgery!"

"Wait, have you been wearing the same clothes all this time?"

"No! Well, okay, I've got like one backup shirt—"

"Okay, that's gross and you should buy another set if you can afford it, even if there are no terrorists after you. And lose the hat," Amelia interrupted, swiftly reaching a hand out and whipping my _really nice_ hat off my head before I could protest.

"I like that hat!" I said, trying to grab it back and failing. "I bought that hat. With money. My money."

"Yeah, well," Amelia said, crumpling my poor hat up and stuffing it into her backpack, "it's nice alright, but it's really eye-catching. Seriously, what made you choose _olive green?_ I don't think I've met anyone else with the guts to wear an olive green hat just for the heck of it."

I scowled. She was right. Not about the hat—it was a nice color and anyone who disagreed was plain wrong. But she was right about needing new clothes.

"Cheer up!" Amelia said loudly as we stood and cleared the table. She nudged me and I almost dropped my tray on the floor. "We'll get new clothes and we won't even have to steal them!"

A few more people were staring at us now. I shoved Amelia towards the door, hoping that we hadn't attracted too much attention.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Amelia said breezily at a boy who was staring at us with his mouth half-open.

* * *

"Not that jacket."

"But—"

"No. Come on. It looks ridiculous."

"You look ridiculous!"

"Your face looks ridiculous!"

"I _like_ this jacket!"

"Excuse me," someone cut in. Amelia and I looked away from the jacket I was holding up to see one of the store's employees staring at us with slight annoyance. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask the two of you to leave unless you quiet down."

I lowered the jacket and mumbled an apology. Amelia made a grumbling noise but nodded.

Lavaridge didn't have the glamorous boutiques or the sprawling, maze-like shopping malls that Mauville had, but it did have a fair amount of shops that sold clothing. As I'd insisted on finding an outfit that looked as different as possible, Amelia and I had spent the last hour going through every single one of them.

Amelia waited until the woman had left, then grabbed the jacket from my hands and threw it onto a nearby rack. "I'm picking your clothes out," she said. "Come on."

She was better at it than I was. The afternoon consisted of me standing awkwardly around while Amelia threw various outfits at me, yelling at me to try them on. Afterwards, after we'd left the shops with a bag full of new stuff, we wandered around Lavaridge commenting on the Pokémon of other trainers.

"I want one of those," Amelia said, staring so intensely at a passing Manectric that its trainer shot us a glare and hurried past. "Wait, what the heck is that thing?"

I glanced at the Pokémon she was pointing at. It looked like some kind of bird, but it wasn't a Taillow or a Wingull, so I was at a bit of a loss. How in the world was anyone supposed to remember all those names? Besides people who had nothing better to do than sit and read a stack of encyclopedias or something. I hadn't had that kind of time. I didn't think anyone had that kind of time.

"Probably a flying-type," I said.

"Wow," Amelia said. "Good guess. I almost missed the fact that it looks like a bird and has wings."

"Shut up," I said, trying to punch her on the arm and missing. Across the street, the bird-like Pokémon suddenly made a loud chattering sound that sounded almost like speech. As I watched, it's tail began to flick back and forth rhythmically.

"What a weird Pokémon," Amelia said. "I'd rather have a Swellow or something. They're really cool."

"You've already got Beaky," I said, glancing up at the Wingull perched on her shoulder, which squawked at me when we made eye contact.

"Yeah. I do." Amelia patted her Wingull on the head, smoothing its feathers down. It made a cooing noise and rubbed its long beak along her hand. I remembered their first day together suddenly, when Amelia had given Beaky a name and it'd tried to pull her hair out. Now Beaky was cozying up to her with affection so obvious that even I could see it. Had they gotten that close that quickly? I glanced over at Murphy, who I'd let out of her Pokéball to wander. She had clambered on top of an open trash bin and was peering down into it.

"Get off there," I called, and she glanced back at me. For a second I wondered if she would listen, then she flicked her ears and jumped down, padding back over to where we were. I reached down and tried to pick her up, but she squirmed alarmingly and made an unhappy noise, so I stopped.

"Hey, look over there," Amelia said quietly. A girl had stopped by to peer through the window of a candy shop. Next to her was a white-furred, cat-like Pokémon with a single black blade-like horn protruding from the side of its head. Absol.

"Shit," I said. Bad luck, remember? We watched as the Absol sidled up to its owner and bumped its nose against her arm. Almost absently the girl ran a hand along its silky fur and it leaned into her, almost knocking her over.

"Man," Amelia whistled. "I can't believe people actually have the guts to own one of those."

I nodded, watching the Absol, which was sticking to its owner like glue, bumping against her every once in a while. "Hey," I said. "Remember that one time some guy brought his Absol to the park, and Cam slept on the bench they sat on and had the cops called on him?"

"Oh, yeah," Amelia said, snorting suddenly. "Serves him right, the jackass."

"We told him not to!"

"Yeah, we did! Everyone did!"

"But he did it anyways! Why'd he do it?"

"Because he's crazy!" Amelia said, suddenly very loudly and very angrily. "He's crazy! Him and his fucking Beautifly. I hate that stupid bug."

Then suddenly I remembered the story that had been passed around the alleys of Mauville, the reason why despite his easygoing smile, everyone was terrified of Cam: his Beautifly, and how he'd set it on Amelia. I hadn't seen what it'd done until after the wound was healed and Amelia had refused to talk about it except for once, when the two of us had dug up a fresh, whole pizza from outside a restaurant and while we were eating in the park she'd started talking like she couldn't stop. "Its fucking little mouth came out," she'd said, biting viciously into a chunk of crust. "And then it rammed it into my arm, like a knife, and when I yelled and shoved it off it came back around at me again, and got me _again,_ and Cam just sat there and laughed." She'd clenched her fists until she was shaking. "Okay, I was going through his stuff. I hadn't had anything to eat that day, okay? But the way he just set that thing on me and laughed…"

I remembered all this in a sudden flash and shuddered. I didn't know if Amelia had talked about it to anyone else. I doubt she had. But even if she had I felt bad for even bringing Cam up. "Sorry," I blurted.

Amelia looked at me like I'd grown another head. "What for?"

"Uh."

"You didn't do anything," Amelia said, kicking a rock down the street. "It was him and his fucking bug. But one day I'll find him again and Beaky's going to eat it."

"Oh." I ran out of things to say and stared glumly at the sidewalk. Cam was not a nice person. I knew that. But there was a part of me that still wondered where he was, what he was doing. Was he challenging Gyms? He'd mentioned going to Dewford. Had he managed to get there yet? How had he crossed the sea? Was he doing well, like Amelia? Or did spend most of his time wondering what he was doing, like me?

"Oh my god." Amelia's voice interrupted my thoughts, and I looked up as she grabbed my shoulder. "What the fuck. Look at that."

Further down the sidewalk there was a man sitting at a café table. Floating close to him was what looked like a giant ice cream cone, with small crystals of ice dotting its surface and a cloud of mist surrounding it. As we watched, it turned around slowly till we could see a face peering out at us, embedded in the dripping slush.

"What the hell is that thing supposed to be?"

"An abomination," I said a little too loudly, and then we had to duck into a shop before the sentient ice cream's trainer turned around.

* * *

Days later, I took one more look at the ring of targets we'd set up and braced myself for failure. "Psybeam, targets two and four!" I ordered, getting ready to duck. But Ping Pong jumped up and the bolt of rainbow light from his pearl hit the two targets dead center, knocking them down. I froze. Amelia stopped her game of tug-of-war with Beaky to stare at us. Even Murphy stopped washing herself to look surprised.

"You did it!" I screamed, falling to my knees to hug the Spoink tightly. He made a squealing sound that I interpreted as either surprise or elation. "You did it! That was—I can't believe you did it!"

Ping Pong wriggled in my arms so wildly that I was forced to let go of him, but afterwards he continued to bounce in place looking more and more excited with each hop. His large black eyes seemed to shine. There was the sound of footsteps as Amelia came running up and pretty much tackled me, knocking us both to the ground. Bubbles squirmed over and began sliming about on top of my leg.

"That finally fucking worked!" she hollered, fist-pumping and nearly hitting me in the face with her elbow. "God! I can't believe it!"

I grabbed hold of Ping Pong with one hand and Bubbles with the other. Murphy, a foot or so away, seemed to make up her mind and padded over. So I grabbed her too, ruffling her fur affectionately as she made a grumpy sound.

"We're gonna do it," I said. "We're gonna beat this Gym!"

"Hell yeah you are," Amelia whooped. "Flannery's not gonna know what hit her! And then you're gonna take _me_ out to eat with the prize money!"

Prize money! I whooped too and our Pokémon joined in, the bunch of us making fools of ourselves in the grass. The sun was shining, not a cloud in the sky. It was going to be a good day. Things were turning out well.

* * *

Things were going to turn out horribly. I was going to die.

"What happened to all that stuff you were yelling yesterday?" Amelia demanded. It was the next day and standing in front of the Lavaridge Gym had made me lose all of my nerve. My hands were shaking. I was going to throw up, pass out, or both.

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe we should train another day."

Amelia punched me. She didn't tend to pull her punches, so it hurt. "You're gonna keep saying that every day for the next year if you don't go in right now," she said. "And I'm not going to help you train for another year."

"Are you really trying to guilt me into this?"

"Yeah, if nothing else works."

I shook my head. "It won't work."

"Okay. I guess we'll have to stay here until you make up your mind, even though, y'know, I stayed here for like a week longer than I had to just to help you out, even though I kinda hate this place by now—"

"This isn't working!" It was working.

"I could be in Fallarbor by now," Amelia said, looking pointedly away from me. "Meteor Falls—or I could have backtracked and gone to Slateport, or even Fortree—I've always wanted to see Fortree, but since I'm such a good friend—"

"Stop talking! Give me five seconds—"

Amelia threw her empty soda can into the trash and turned towards me. "Look. You're gonna be fine. I fought her, I should know." Then she grinned in a way that I didn't like. "Hey, you know what? I'm just gonna go in and register for you, if you're too nervous—"

"Do _not_ —"

"See you soon!" And Amelia was sauntering into the Gym. I froze, grappled with my fear of entering the Gym and my fear of being registered as a challenger against my own will, and the latter one. I grabbed Murphy, who was hanging out by some bushes and chewing on a leaf, and rushed in after her. The doors opened.

"Amelia! Hey—"

I was immediately hit by a wall of hot and humid air, like inside a sauna. But it was a sauna, I realized, after seeing the clouds of steam everywhere. Who the heck wanted to battle in a sauna all the time? I quickly spotted Amelia, who was not at the registration desk but standing a little ways to the side, staring at two people who were standing near a door on the right wall, talking very quietly. One of them was a young woman, with a head of absolutely crazy red hair. She was wearing loose pants and a shirt that bared her midriff, and even though I knew almost nothing about Gym Leaders or the League, I thought this had to be Flannery. The other person had pale hair and was wearing an expensive-looking dark suit and I had not expected to ever run into him again, but it was Steven.

"Huh," Amelia said thoughtfully to me. "I thought Flannery just stayed in the Leader's room all the time." she jerked her head towards the two. "You think he just challenged her?"

"No, that guy's—" I said, but before I could finish Steven spotted the two of us. Unfortunately, his eyes brightened with recognition when he saw me. Flannery stopped talking and turned around.

"Hi!" Amelia said cheerfully, and started _walking over_. "My friend here wants to challenge the Gym—"

"Oh, yeah?" Flannery said. "I mean—yes, of course!" she said even more loudly than Amelia, staring at me so intensely she looked almost cross-eyed. I wondered if it was too late to run. "Yes! I recognized you from our battle the other day! You fought bravely, and, uh—your friend, should she also wish to take on the challenge—"

"Register over here first," said a trainer sitting at the registration desk, snickering a little.

"Wh—I wasn't done—" Flannery sputtered, suddenly losing her previous intense expression. "I mean—"

"Riley, was it?" Steven interrupted, looking at me. "I remember you from Jagged Pass. Is this what you were coming to Lavaridge for?"

"Yeah! Uh, yeah," I said. There was going to be no way out of this conversation. "Yeah, I wanted to beat Flannery."

"Victory won't be easy!" Flannery said a little too loudly, with the same, almost theatrical, intensity she'd had previously. "Next to this volcano, my Pokémon and I—"

"Wait," Amelia said, looking back and forth between Steven and I. "You guys know each other?"

"He's the one from the mountain I told you about yesterday," I muttered.

Something seemed to click for Amelia. "Oh, you're the rich rock guy," she said.

A hole opened up under me and pulled me into the earth. One of the walls burst, drowning all of us in boiling water. My head exploded. All of those were things I wished would happen rather than having to watch Flannery, a Gym Leader, and Steven, the Pokémon expert with a lot of money, react to what Amelia had just said. I wanted to crawl under the rug.

Flannery saved me from having to explain by bursting into laughter, all trace of her previous demeanor entirely gone. "Ha! Haha! Oh, wow. Oh, Arceus. Rich rock guy." she wiped a tear from her eye, grinning. "That's good."

I worked up the nerve to glance at Steven. Oddly enough, instead of looking angry, he seemed to be a mix of slightly amused and awkward. My impression of him improved a little. "I guess that's...a fair description," he said.

"I didn't say that," I said. "That is not what I said."

"It sort of was," said Amelia, who seemed to be on the verge of realizing that she'd said something weird.

"Not really."

"Man!" Flannery said, flinging her arms up in the air and smiling at us. "I was nervous, but you're all right."

"Hang on," I said, trying to wrap my head around everything that had just happened. " _You_ were nervous?"

"I'll battle you!" Flannery said. "How many badges do you have already?"

"She's got zero," Amelia said cheerfully.

"Great!" Flannery said. She took a deep breath. "Puny trainer! I accept your challenge! You'd better not underestimate me just because I've been here a short time!" she stepped over to the door, through which I could see a flight of steps. "Show me your strength!"

When I made to follow her up the stairs she stopped, looking at me strangely. "Oh! Uh. These stairs are for the Leader—uh, for me. You have to go through that." She pointed behind me and quickly disappeared through the doorway and the door slid shut, looking like it was never there.

I looked to where she had pointed to, where the floor gave way to rocky, steaming ground and a series of ledges. Set in the ground were wooden trapdoors, through which more steam was rising. "What?"

"You gotta fall through the trapdoor things," Amelia said, leaning against the wall. "It takes you to this weird room full of water, and then water shoots you back up to this floor."

"You're kidding," I said dumbly.

"Hey, no hints!" shouted the trainer at the registration desk.

"Riley," Steven said, and I remembered that he was there, witnessing my life rapidly devolve into a sitcom. "Good luck. I should be going soon."

"Thanks," I said. "Uh, any advice before you go?"

Steven seemed to think for a second. "Remember what I said about detailed commands," he said. "She probably won't expect your Meowth to know Shock Wave. But other than that…" he smiled. "I have a feeling you'll be fine. Flannery is a new Leader, and you might have noticed that she tries not to show it—"

"No kidding," I muttered.

"—but she gives her challengers a fair fight and treats them well," he finished. "Yesterday she was saying how she wanted to get back to her Gym to—"

"Wait, wait," Amelia interrupted suddenly, looking at him. I glanced at her, startled. "How'd you get to see Flannery yesterday? The Gym was closed. I heard she was gone for all of yesterday and a few days before that."

Steven paused. Something about the moment struck me as familiar, though I couldn't think of why. "I ran across her yesterday in town," he said. "She brought it up briefly."

"Huh," Amelia said vaguely. I had known her for long enough to know that there was something important on her mind. But she didn't keep talking. Steven's expression didn't change, but I thought I saw a hint of something in his pale eyes.

"Good luck to you again," he said, nodding at me. Then he turned and left the Gym, the doors sliding shut behind him.

"Yeah. Good luck," Amelia said after a few seconds, turning back to me. "Hey, listen. You're gonna beat her, so—"

"What was all that about?" I asked.

"All what about?"

"Just now. What's bothering you?"

Amelia stared at me with her slightly too-wide, watchful eyes. She opened her mouth, closed it, seemed to wrestle with herself internally, then frowned, kicking at the ground. "I dunno," she said, lowering her voice. "I got a feeling. Your rich rock guy is lying."

"What?" I said. "Why would he do that?"

"I dunno! It seems like something pointless to lie about!" Amelia said loudly. "Whatever. Who cares what Mr. Rich Rock Guy is up to, anyways."

"Are you seriously calling him that?" the trainer manning the registration desk called over again. "That is so weird. And a little disrespectful, isn't it?"

"Oh, shove off," Amelia said, turning her gaze on him. "Who cares?"

The trainer sputtered, leaning forward. "What? What do you mean 'who cares?'"

"Jeez," Amelia said, rolling her eyes. "No need to be such a hardass. It was a joke. We're probably never gonna hear from this guy again."

For a few seconds the trainer was speechless. "Do you—do you know who that was?"

"Steven?" I offered.

"Do you watch television at all? Do you read the newspaper? Magazines?"

"None of those things," I said.

"Nope, not really," Amelia said, frowning. "Hang on, now that you mention it he did look a little familiar…"

"Of course he looked familiar!" The trainer shouted, slamming his hands on the table. "Did you live under a rock? That was Steven Stone! He's the Champion! The current Hoenn League Champion! How could you not know?"

"Ohhhh," Amelia said, snapping her fingers. "That's what he looks like! I thought he was, like, super old for some reason."

"He's the what," I said.

* * *

 **A/N:** If you're here, thanks for sticking with this. Coming up next: Amelia does some amateur detective work, and Riley's battle with Flannery begins.


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